School of Phantoms: Beyond Your Wildest Dreams
by APennyForYourThought
Summary: If you start high school at St Gerik's, you're mad. The grounds are dangerous. A single Ingenue tries to go against convention every now and then but only finds herself struggling under the influence of not one, not even two, but THREE Phantoms. At least.
1. She Who Dreams

**A/N: Alrighty! This is DarkFlame and Jamster's first joint PotO fic! YAY. It's Jamster's first fanfiction, so let's make her feel welcome, okay?**

**Okay, this chapter is based on Jamster's maginificent dream. This is a cross-universe, containing the principles of the PotO world and physical elements from our world. The setting is a school, a _special_ school. The bulk of this chapter was written by Jamster, all DarkFlameOfTheMonkey did was chuck in some big words, some details and ran it through a spellcheck. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: DF-I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Jamster? Do you?**

**Jamster: I dunno.**

She Who Dreams

The monkey clapped his tune while the Phantom finished explaining the task set for homework. His voice floated smoothly around the classroom. That voice was so delicate; half the time I don't dare listen to it too hard, for fear of the sound shattering in my ears. Antique furniture stood lonely at the end of the carpeted classroom. Mahogany wood, I think it was, cracking at the edges. I like mahogany. I moved closer to the furniture to examine the pattern carved into it. I think the school bell would have rung by then, otherwise I wouldn't have dared get up. I don't know, I can't remember much at all.

_Beautiful,_ I thought. The wood was dark with age, and its moderate shine was very pleasing to my eyes.

I hadn't realised by then that everyone had already gone, and the room looked emptier than ever. I had never been after class and I realised the teacher was glancing towards me. I suddenly remembered that I had to give him my homework from last week. I stood up, the hem of my pink dress swirling at my feet. I was kind getting used to these big frilly dresses that were the school uniform, but I could never understand why girls didn't get to wear the tights the boys did and boots that went knee high, though I did not envy having to wear the sword and loose, long-sleeved shirts with the collars that got into the way all the time. It sort of looked _foppish_ on the wrong people.

As I walked closer towards him, meaning the Phantom, my teacher, he gave a small smile that made me want to melt right then and there on the spot. Anything so that he would no longer focus _all _his attention me. (Don't misunderstand, a little attention, especially from the Phantom, makes you feel really good.) Being sucked into the floor would have done nicely.

I stood in front of him, holding out my finished score, not sure where to avert my eyes. Staring at the eyeholes in his black mask would bring the word 'detention' into his mind immediately. But is it my fault that my class teacher wears a mask _and_ has irresistibly captivating eyes? He reached out towards the paper but instead held onto my hand and pulled me towards him. A man of his age easily towered over me; I had always been short. A tingle ran through my spine. This definitely did _not _happen to a schoolgirl every day. I felt his warmth wrap over my head and down my abdomen, and I wholeheartedly thought Christmas had come early. I had no idea how to react to this. I didn't pull away or let go, but instead I tightened my grip slightly and followed his every step as I was lead to the empty classroom next door.

This room had a different smell to it, similar to incense burning. I saw that the school tables were joined together in one row and that the chairs were sitting at opposite ends. I realised he hadn't taken his eyes off me the moment he had grabbed me. It was an unnerving sensation of being watched. I felt like I was being scrutinized. Perhaps I was being evaluated? Was this all a test? Experiencing abduction and seduction by a Phantom _was_ part of the school curriculum... My teacher was staring deep into my eyes, as if trying to tell me something. A test orchestrated by my teacher? I would have thought the school hired Phantoms that we didn't know; God knows there are plenty. Him, my stern teacher with his magical voice and harsh homework assignments? I suddenly wondered if the other girls had done this before me. Why didn't they tell me? Bugger it all.

I felt the urge to lean into his dark brown shirt. His every move was truly_ hypnotic. _(I suppose they have to be, if this _was_ my abduction examination.) He stopped me at the table and held his hand out as if asking me for a dance. I took it, hardly knowing what he might do next. He stuck his leg out and kicked the table to the other side of the room and I numbly thought, _Damage to school property. I wish I could do that. _Later I would look back on this action and think that to kick a dozen school tables across the expanse of a room would require supernatural ability.

Thoughts of abusing the classroom furniture aside, I took note of the wildly-patterned rug in the empty space. He pulled me forward and his face leaned down close to mine. I shivered. I saw his dazzling eyes staring right into me. That was probably the only time I could see the detail of his irises well, and from so close! My teacher never let anyone get close to his face.

I'm afraid my memory goes faulty at this point. But I think, and I put a great deal of emphasis on _think,_ he kissed me.

And then I think I fainted.

Blast this stupid exam. Is it truly _encouraged_ that young students should fall in love with their teacher? I thought this school had enough money to hire an unfamiliar Phantom for its female pupils... We're half the school population anyway.

I woke up to find the Phantom still staring at me. Where was I? My teacher's house? (I was a little terrified of this possibility.) My house? School sick bay? I looked to the left and realised we were still in the empty classroom and the tables were still on the other side of the room. I screwed my eyes tightly shut, then opened them again, only to find the same thing I did before. So this hadn't been a dream. I could still remember him kissing me, as if it were only the two of us in the world. I turned my head slowly to the right. He looked at me. This was all so _ethereal_. Perhaps I should mention now that my schoolteacher is very romantic, very handsome and extremely passionate.

Damn.

I think I swooned after reawakening. I've only seen that happen on the school grounds a few times, and that was always when the senior girls were asked on dates with one of the boys. I'd never been interested in the boys at school; this was so much better. So I swooned. When I opened my eyes again the Phantom was sitting on one of the classroom chairs and closing his eyes, about to fall asleep. I don't know what possessed me at that moment, but I got up off the floor and tiptoed over to him.

No, I did not grab a pen and doodle a moustache on his face. No, I did not steal all his clothes except for his underwear. I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. I will tell all of you, doing that is dead _scary._ Avoid it if you can, but I think you should do it at least once in your life, before you die. I swear I felt his lips push back. That twitch sent fear shooting through my arteries again, so I detached my lips and walked backwards, slowly, so as not to wake my mentor. Now, you may all think I'm crazy to kiss a Phantom (and a very attractive one at that) and run.

I'd agree with you.

I swear on my soul that this man's eyelids fluttered a tiny bit, and that his lips bent into a smirk as I eased my body between the door and the doorjamb, ready to run down the hallway and home.

Or maybe I have gone insane, as you think I have.

I still felt the shape of lips other than mine hovering around my face. A ghost feeling. I waved it away with my hand. No, it was definitely still there. I frowned and slapped my mouth, then at the air around my head, as if believing that the sensation would get hit and run off in humiliation. Something of the sort.

I groaned angrily and waved my arm about in the air. "Go away!" I muttered.

Then I got wet. Horribly, annoyingly wet.

"MU-UM!" I yelled. My mother was standing over my bed, a jug (presumably recently filled with cold water) in her right hand and a slice of brown toast in her left.

"You overslept!" she cried. "Hurry up, you're already late! Come _on!_"

I screamed. Yes, I screamed. That was the best dream I had ever had and now I have to go to _school?!_ This wasn't fair! I'd never kissed a boy before, so why can't I dream about being abducted and kissed by a wonderful example of a Phantom as compensation? Irony had made itself my best friend!

Mum had already pulled apart my curtains, and the glare from the sun hit my senses with what seemed to me like frustration. (Well, I was a little peeved at the world at that instant.) I swung my legs off my bed as Mum hammered at me about not forgetting my school things. I kicked my old schoolbag from under my bed, countering my mother's words at the same time. It looked like my mum had already washed my face for me, so I swiped the toast from her fingers and pulled on my school dress. I'd make up for brushing my teeth later by gargling with my water. The wholemeal bread would do as a toothbrush; stupid abrasive wholemeal bread was finally good for something. Better check: Yes, my water bottle was in my bag.

I made it from my bedroom, through the kitchen, through the living room and out to the front gate the very moment the driver in the school bus yelled out the window at a cyclist pedalling past the front of my house.

**And there it is. Please take the time to review with anything you have to say, since this is Jamster's first fic and DarkFlame really wants her to not get traumatized with flames the first time something gets posted... We'll try to update each weekend; DarkFlame is working on the second chapter now. R&R!**


	2. Enter the TrapDoor Lover

**A/N: This chapter was written by DarkFlame, who has nothing better to do than watch SRMTHFG episodes or the PotO movie _again. _Personally, I think the structure of this chapter stinks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, nor does Jamster, pray as she might...**

Enter the Trap-Door Lover

There were several things wrong with my dream.

The first thing was that the school uniform for boys wasn't the pale shirt and tights that were depicted in my dream last night. No. That was the primary school uniform. I dreamed about the primary school uniform last night because my mum had bought my high school uniform for me, so I never saw what the boys had to wear until I stepped on the bus. That I will come to later.

I remember spending kindergarten to year six wearing just a pink petticoat, a white bodice with lace at the collar and on occasion, the red cloak to keep the sun off my shoulders. The boys ran around in those dark tights I mentioned, and the loose shirt with the ruffled collar. And they didn't have swords, not even the older boys in year six. That was primary school, the better part of my life. I was quite fond of our principal, Mr Chaney. He took a few of my maths classes in the later years.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I'm starting high school today.

It is time I informed our dear reader here about the sort of place I live in. Imagine a large suburb or city. We've got the ordinary things, so I won't go into that. Our schools have a complex system of connections. There's the primary school I went to, Chaney Public. All of my friends from primary school went to Crawford High, on the other side of the city. I'm in St Gerik's School. Both of my parents wanted me to go there and apparently, they can afford it. St Gerik's takes all children from kinder to year twelve, but it's still a small school.

One of my pet hobbies is examining elaborate outfits, getting all the details imprinted in my mind. I have studied the uniforms of both the Phantoms and the Ingénues throughout my school life.

My new uniform is tolerable enough. Sort of. It's all pink and lacy, unnecessary fabric everywhere. I don't know how I'm going to get through the years with this instead of my wonderful skirt and cloak. I get the feeling it's something my grandmother would have worn. That or something Mum would have gotten married in. It's very over-the-top. There's glittery lace along the neck and sleeves, a pink rose at the hip and _lots_ of bows, roses and ruffles down the back. Awful stuff. And all pink! There are, however, some _very_ nice white gloves with silver designs on them... I haven't tried them on yet as they are not compulsory to wear, but they're supposed to go three quarters of the way up your forearm... I won't describe the boys' uniform until later, it's a surprise.

The senior girls in high school, I am only _told,_ wear a large, shining white dress, similar to the junior uniform in design. But somehow it's much more magnificent, the girls walking around with silver stars in their hair, striking awe into everyone who sees them. The boys wear a long red cape that trails on the floor, coming from their left shoulder. A very intricate costume. I've seen a boy in the background of a picture in the school brochure. Ah, let's see... It's an outfit made dominantly out of red. A stiff collar that's part of the cape, embroidered with gold. There's this lovely shapely jacket, double-breasted, I think. Red tights, knee-high boots, black belt, gloves and cravat... They've very ornate cuffs. So pretty. So much gold embroidering! _They're_ allowed to carry swords. And that cape, oh, you just have to see it to behold it to the full. It's _entrancing._ Of course, the object that really holds your attention is the boys' mask. It's a beautiful skull, the Red Death. The senior uniform is made to amaze. It lets everyone know that you're in the middle of your major exams as well, so everyone leaves you alone.

St Gerik's seems to me an okay school. There's going to be a load of primary school kids running around at lunchtime though. I think most people are going to be annoyed at them, but I promised myself I'd be nice.

There's the other specialised school, Kay's Academy for Boys. Very expensive. I think if I'd been a boy Mum would have sent me there. And the last one: The Leroux Institute. That's the most central university in the city, so almost everyone goes there.

And on this morning I boarded the school bus to St Gerik's. I smiled at the driver, who was sort of indifferent at everything. I giggled at the way his red suit was so clean, almost too clean to look like it belonged on a human, and at the way his white wig was sort of lopsided. The bus was almost empty, since my house was rather far from the school.

And now comes for the part spurred on by my increasing puberty. High school boys.

Mum would be so proud of me.

Sorry, I was being sarcastic. I'm a little touchy about growing up... I'm really more interested in their uniform.

There were two boys on the bus, sitting in random places. I chose a seat close to the front, so I could study them in the driver's mirror.

Dress clothes. They get dress clothes. Black, velvety _dress clothes._

Not fair!

Oh, that dress jacket with the squared tails down to their knees, oh that shiny brown vest, oh that glittering silver buckle on their belt! Is all that really necessary? For a boy no older than thirteen, really? I didn't think they would get a cravat; I can barely see the white shirt beneath, only the collar poking up and a few centimetres of sleeve. That's a lovely cravat. All thick and black. And there are the traditional black gloves again.

The bus went over a bump.

MUST NOT LOOK AT CLOSE-FITTING BLACK PANTS FOR FEAR OF BEING PHANTOMISED!

Looking mysterious and alluring is compulsory for a Phantom-in-training, you see.

And so I spent twenty minutes looking from one boy's clothes to the other's. The one sitting a few seats behind me was rather skinny, the one across the bus aisle, well, just average, I think... I could not discern any more from sight, as another part of this uniform was a white, contoured mask sitting on the right side of their faces.

After those twenty minutes a larger group of boys and girls piled into the seats and I found myself sitting next to another girl. She was grabbing fistfuls of her pink skirt in an attempt to keep them out of the aisle where everyone was walking, jostling and otherwise being noisy kids.

The silence I had previously been sitting in dissolved under the pressure of all these children, calling to friends from previous years and trying to get seats close together. About a hundred conversations erupted at the same moment. I pitied that bus driver. His wig looked more pathetic than ever.

"God, this dress is flaming annoying, isn't it?" the girl next to me said.

"Yeah, I never had to deal with something like this before." I replied. Every girl knows how to talk in this town, with conviction or not. My mother trained me well in the sport.

"Me neither. I guess we're both in year seven then, eh?" She paused, studying my face as I had been doing with hers for the past few minutes. I do that a lot. I just like analysing people.

"I haven't seen you around before, you new?" she verbally nudged me.

"Yeah," I said again. "Chaney Public. You don't get too many Chaneys into St Gerik's, do you?"

She shook her head. "It's a small school. They try not to take in too many new students for secondary. Most kids go from kindy to year twelve in Gerik's, like me."

"I'm assuming the uniform's different for high school?" To be honest, I already knew all this information. But then, all girls were brought up for conversation.

"Yes. Year six was spent in a skirt a lot better than this one." The girl grinned now. "But St Gerik's a school, and a self-respecting one at that. Take a look at all the new Phantom material!" She was smiling hysterically, nodding her head behind her at all the new year seven boys. "The new Phantoms always outnumber the Ingénues when it comes to taking in fresh students, I've been watching every year. And fresh Phantom material always means...!" She waited for me to finish.

Just my luck. I only had half a clue to what she was saying. I shrugged, motioning that she should go on.

She sighed quickly and clenched her fists, pumping them into the air. "_Phantom_ equals _boyfriend_. This is high school at St Gerik's! We have free rein!"

"Oh. Well, you must educate me in the art!" Really, I didn't want to be thinking about getting a boyfriend so soon. My thoughts strayed to my dream last night, of that lovely darkened classroom just as the school bus pulled into the car park of St Gerik's School, joining two others.

I was still thinking about my dream when I joined the stream of students in the bus aisle. I checked off what I had been thinking about when I'd gotten on: The things I got wrong in my lovely dream.

One, boys' uniform. High school has horrible uniforms for girls, and might I dare say, very attractive-looking uniforms for boys.

Into the hall, the entire school. Split up into new classes. Follow everyone else. Yeah. That's my life.

A while later, I walked into the classroom that was to be mine and realised the second wrong. Schools, no matter how many funds they get, will _never_ provide a Persian rug in every classroom. So much for the classroom of romantic dreams. I sat down at a table in the second aisle from the window, in line with the teacher's desk, who had yet to arrive.

Boy's uniform and the room from my dreams. Bam, abolished. I was pleased at the thought of seeing some new and interesting clothes around, disappointed at the notion of a classroom that did not possess the luxury I had dreamt up.

But with one aspect of my dream, I hit solid gold.

* * *

The teacher arrived, and I was suddenly very nervous. Oh, this was no ordinary teacher.

Okay, there are a lot of Phantoms around this city. Mr Chaney was only one, and he was my school principal for seven years. I have no doubt that Crawford High is filled with high-pitched singing and maniacal laughter. Kay's Academy is probably filled to the brim with young Phantoms. And as soon as a Phantom apprentice graduates with a degree from university, there is born another licensed Phantom. Thus, Phantoms are a pretty normal thing in my life. So why am I so scared?

The other students gasped as our teacher appeared, standing behind his wooden desk. One second the room had only children gossiping, the next there was a masked teacher whose mere _presence _ordered us to silence. I was the only one watching the desk, or to be exact, the space between the bottom of the desk and the floor.

_Trap-door._

Nice.

_Very_ nice.

You have to admit, it's the most ancient of Phantom tricks. But, also the most effective and the most flexible of purposes. A good trap-door worker can kill a building full of old grannies just by popping up. A _brilliant _one can be established as... Well, let's say that there are many stories of ghosts haunting various places around the city. Probably unemployed university graduates with too much time on their hands.

"Rule number one: No one touches the mask." Everyone froze as he spoke, just _complete_ paralysis. "Rule number two: No one touches the monkey."

At that cue, each student searched the teacher's desk with their eyes. On the corner of the polished desk sat a rectangular box, a monkey wearing scarlet clothes sitting atop. It was moving its legs and arms, clapping together some cymbals. Strange, I had not noticed this before, and my eye is quite good.

"And number three: If you see any rich, handsome young men hanging around the school gates, alert me at once!" The teacher's eyes looked out at us from beneath the dull sheen of a black mask. Everything from his eyebrows to his top lip was covered. I recognised the mask and flowing cape almost instantly. I've studied a lot of Phantom outfits, my fixation is too much to ever cease. White shirt with tight cuffs...brown vest...black wrap above that...short brown jacket with something like brown lace at the cuff...dark brown tights...black boots...and God, that _cape!_

_Don Juan Triumphant._

Now _that_ is cool.

He spoke once more. "Now that you know my rules, let's get on with business. This is a small school. We do not have the staff, facilities, or the students to provide you with separate subject periods. So, high school at St Gerik's will just be a continuation of school in the elementary style. The only difference is your learning is expanded and if you forget your homework... The Punjab is only nice to the littlies." The Phantom smirked. It was a small movement, but that alone sent tremors through every single one sitting.

We're not stupid, you know.

"I will be your teacher for all your classes this year. The sports lesson will be conducted by Madame Giry, taking place every Friday afternoon. Your first upcoming assignment will be a Case Studies task, and class tests will be a form of revision until exams at the end of the year. Other than that, you don't need to know much. I'll mark the roll and then we'll get started with the real stuff."

No one spoke after he sat down. I don't think anyone had the breath. This man foretold some very hard work indeed. I noticed that a few of the other girls were sitting in their chairs dead straight, their lips pressed together. The rest of them were blinking most horribly, unable to take their eyes off his mask. Or maybe it was some other aspect of his figure. I don't know. I'm not a telepathic Ingénue. The majority of the male students were very impressed, some scared into submission.

"It's pronounced like 'Dayna', sir." I suddenly said.

The teacher looked up from the roll at me. "All right then, Dana."

I practically collapsed onto my desk. I'd seen that look before.

This man was the Phantom of the Opera from my dream.

Oh, this was going to be a very awkward year.

* * *

"How was school?" Mum was sitting at the kitchen table, reading.

I slid my schoolbag under the table. "Okay." That's what I always say. "We got to know everybody's names for most of the day. Then we watched an educational video on Fops."

"Good. You have to be informed, Dana. You don't want to get involved with one." Mum scowled into her book.

You see, Mum married a fop. And my biological father's precisely him. She got a divorce, and now she's dating a Phantom. The only thing she accepts from my dad is the child support funds. Not any of the letters, phone calls or gifts. Just the money. I suppose that's how I got into St Gerik's. That's the advantage from being with a fop _and_ a Phantom, I think. The best of both worlds.

"No homework, so can I watch TV?" I asked.

Mum shrugged. "If there's no homework... Who's your teacher this year?"

"One of the deputy principals. A man called Gerik. The same name as the school, for some reason. I'm not sure of it."

"Oh, lucky you! I've heard of him. I got Robert Englund when I was at uni..."

I nodded as Mum went over the story. Lucky me? Oh, I don't know.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to sleep again?

**Please leave a review if you think it necessary to criticise us; critique is always welcome as this story is still in the planning works. We're taking turns to write chapters, rather a messy arrangement but fair and enjoyable. Jamster is working on Chapter Three. Please R&R!**

**Merry Boxing Day, DarkFlameOfTheMonkey**


	3. She Who is Late

**A/N: Oh my god, no update for two weekends. We are very sorry to anyone that is still reading this. On the first of March, it was Jamster's birthday, which I hope she has enjoyed. With her birthday and everything, she still managed to write the majority of this chapter. And last week, I was sick with a cough and fever and wasn't able to do much fanficcing, only getting to edit Jamster's bit and add a bit at the end. But here is Chapter 3 at last anyway!**

**Disclaimer: The copy rights of_ The Phantom of the Opera_ belong to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber and other various people that are in no way leaving it to us in their will and testament...**

She Who is Late

_"Brrrrr!" _A consistent beeping started behind the sound of the morning radio.

_Another day of school_, I thought. _Yeah, got to go to school. School. Yeah._

I slammed my hand on top of the alarm button and turned onto my side. Maybe just a few more minutes... Three would do nicely. What time was it anyway? I looked over my shoulder at the clock. Red digital numbers glared at me. It was a quarter past eight.

_Hoh shit. The bus is gonna come in fifteen minutes. How long have I overslept?_

I jumped off the bed and rushed to the bathroom. I glanced at my face in the bathroom mirror and saw that my hair was five inches high. Quickly brushing it down, I grabbed my toothbrush with my other hand and ran it around inside my mouth. _No time to be ladylike_._ Sorry, Mum._ On any other day, I would have brushed each tooth one by one until it shone. Well, except for yesterday...

Dangling behind my door, the coat hanger shook as I tore my uniform off of it. My nightclothes were flung unceremoniously onto my purple quilt and my uniform was pulled over my head. After a bit of muttering about the lace and gauze scratching my skin and grateful thoughts about women's corsets being declared unhealthy by officials, I bent down to retrieve my schoolbag. And when I finally made it to the kitchen, there was only a scrap of paper to bid me good morning.

_'Darling, leaving early, didn't want to be caught up with traffic. Buy lunch at school, money on table._

_love mum._

_p.s. Don't forget your water bottle.'_

I smiled. Of course, I loved Mum more than anything in the world. But why today? I opened the fridge and ran my eyes past every product that we called food. There was half a jar of cream cheese with a pickle inside it, among other things.

_Aren't we supposed to be rich from the child support funds that we get every week? I mean, we do get around 200 to 250 dollars each week. Oh who cares, I'll just grab a slice of bread._ I picked up the plastic bag of bread, pulled out a slice and shoved it into a sandwich bag.

_Oh no, what time is it?_

I scanned my eyes around the room and spotted the clock sitting beside the microwave. Mum had moved it again; she never liked things always the same. That's probably why she divorced Dad. It was now eight twenty; I still had five minutes. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and dashed to my bag, shoving all the requirements for the day inside of it: water bottle, slice of bread -also known as breakfast-, pencil case and textbook for Case Studies. Zipping the bag, I jammed my feet into my ballet flats. Running outside, I saw the school bus driving away down my street. _It must've come early, then. _I thought resentfully. _Guess I'll have to walk to school._

I had no idea how far it was to the school. About three to four blocks? That isn't too far, but I suppose everyone else is closer. It was definitely better catching the bus than walking. I trudged on, not noticing the things passing me. It was just the normal buildings and houses that were usually there. I knew every street around our suburb because I used to take long strolls a few years ago with Mum and her Phantom boyfriend. Those were old days and these were new. I had a new teacher, too, so I knew I'd better run for it.

* * *

When I got to school it was already quarter past nine and everyone had already seated. I stood in the doorway, looking around for the teacher. He wasn't there, which really was strange.

"Excuse me, young lady, but I would prefer it if you were seated before I got here." came a voice from behind.

"U...uh...I'm sorry, _sir._" I somehow managed the last word out, not daring to turn around. I swore he was breathing down at the spot between my shoulder blades, like a dragon. I guarantee that it would make you freeze up instantaneously. I scampered to my seat, running through my head whether it was an advantage or disadvantage to have the teacher stand so close to me. I hope he wouldn't embarrass me in front of everyone; single me out or anything like that.

I hurriedly pulled my stationery out and sat up, careful to look like I was paying attention. The others in the class were giggling and smirking.

_Laugh all you like, I don't care, _I thought angrily._ All I care is getting good marks and surviving this place._

The teacher strode -I had never seen him stride into class; he seemed the sort of person that _always_ made a far more impressive entrance than that, in my short experience- into the classroom and sat his books and a pile of freshly-printed paper down on the table, watching us ever so intensely. We were watching his every move, too, as he picked up the chalk which lay on the table in a small basket full of other teaching essentials. The monkey music box was there again, smiling at me with its frozen face. Turning his back to us, he started writing on the board _"Bag Essentials" _in cursive writing. Underneath that he wrote all the things needed for the year.

"Now, as we were discussing before our latecomer arrived, these are the things you need to set your sights on."

I brought my attention to the list on the board. _'3 exercise books - one for rules and disciplines, another for songs and homework tasks and another for writing the histories of your house_'. We also needed a few textbooks, which I knew I already had. I nearly had everything except for the writing nibs and the exercise books. I was probably going to get them tomorrow because it was shopping night for me and Mum.

After that the Phantom wrote, _"Homework: proper labelling for each book and all your essentials by Friday"_.

I contemplated the part about the houses. I remember being separated into sporting houses in primary school. _Which house do we know we're in?_

I put my hand up and waited for a few seconds before he turned to me. His grey eyes were directed straight at me, still intense, but this time he had a flicker of amusement in them.

"Miss, I would expect that you put up your hand for a reason and not just sit there and dream."

The whole class burst into fits of more laughter and I just sat there blushing. How did they go from frightened to death of this Phantom to laughing at everything he said? Who was he to talk to me like that? I didn't mean to dream away but I still had a question to ask him.

"Sir, I put up my hand to ask a question and if you have finished insulting me, I would like to voice it,_ sir._" I shot back, making sure my last word sounded mocking. Approximately five seconds later I so much wanted to snatch it back into my throat. I'd forgotten what sort of teacher's vibe he possessed. Not an easy-going one, I can tell you for certain.

"Young lady, it would be preferred if you had some manners. And what is the question that you so passionately long to ask me?" The children around me struggled to hide snickers once more as he mocked me right back.

"First of all, I do have manners and secondly, I would like to know which of the houses we are in."

"I was going to _enlighten _you," -God, this man was good at these taunts- "as soon as I had finished writing, but now that you have disturbed my class again, I want you to learn some patience. Consider yourself this class's first victim of detention, tomorrow after school."

My cheeks and forehead went red. I noticed how insulted I was and it was the fact that _he_ had brought me to this state that made me steam all the more fiercely. He expects me to buy my books tomorrow, and instead I'm going to detention.

_How perfect. The second day of school and I'm already on detention. Just my luck._

* * *

Well, life isn't all bad. You lighten up in the end.

There was a late addition to my class. A girl was now sitting in the desk by the window, to the left of mine. She was the one who had passed me the note across the aisle during the literacy lesson.

_'You're in the Diamond house. He read out the names; I managed to catch yours.'_

Yeah, life isn't all bad. It wasn't until recess that I managed to talk to her. Our Almighty Mr. Phantom kept us busy with mathematics and English work.

"Thank you for that." I started. "I haven't seen you around the city before; what brings you here?"

The girl shrugged. She struck me as the mousy sort of person, but she seemed intelligent. "I just moved here. It's a nice place." She bent over her bag to recover a sandwich. A movement in my stomach alerted me that I hadn't yet had breakfast. That slice of bread was still in my bag... I would have to buy something from the canteen at lunchtime as well.

"Do you need me to show you around the school? You missed yesterday, the whole introduction and everything." I unzipped my bag and pulled out a crumpled paper bag.

"No thanks, I know most of the school already." She straightened and walked out into the outdoor quadrangle. I fell into step next to her. "For example, I know that there is a small indoor swimming pool for the water polo team." she said to me.

This genuinely caught me off guard. "Really? A _swimming pool?_ You're kidding!"

She laughed at the look on my face. "There's a stairway next to Room 18, down into the basement. Check it, if you don't believe me."

"I'll take your word for it." I took a bite out of my slice of bread.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at my food.

"Breakfast." I said shortly, holding it up briefly. For some reason this made her go into a laughing fit until she started coughing, doubling over and hugging her stomach. That's when I realised she had never been laughing at me in class at all. Odd, since everyone else seemed to find me so funny.

The girl sat down on one of the benches, unwrapping her sandwich. She was still giggling.

"Anyway, thanks for giving me the note about the houses." I cocked my head. "You know, I haven't gotten your name."

"Estelle. Now you know."

"I'm Dana."

She laughed again. "I knew that." She held out her hand. "Pleasured to make your acquaintance."

I took her hand and shook it, before sitting down next to her and eating.

No, life isn't completely bad at all.

**If anyone has finished reading this trickle of fanfiction (an astonishng, feat, I assure you), please try to find the time to review with at least a little bit of constructive information on our writing. Farewell, thank you and R&R whilst we all waste our lives away sitting here trying to watch The Simpsons and a Better Homes and Gardens special at the same time. (I tried doing that last night. Mildly difficult.)**


	4. Into the Fire

**A/N: I've been working since the beginning of the Easter weekend on this, and I'm very tired. If you find anything that can be improved, PLEASE review with what you have to say. That is because this chapter is our longest so far, and even then I think that something's slightly wrong with it. Just a hunch. Anyhow, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera...is dead. (That was so not fair...) And he doesn't belong to us.**

Into the Fire

"Basic haunting. What can you tell me about that?"

_Well, at least I got here on time today, _I thought to myself. I had made sure of that fact this morning, very sure. I woke up half and hour earlier than I needed to. And what did I arrive at school to? Oh, nothing short of a crushing course in Opera Ghost techniques.

Our instructor raised his left eyebrow, tilting the black mask on his face. "Well?"

Everyone froze inside their own shell of silence, waiting for someone else to say something and none thinking they were the one that should. Obviously, everybody was scared. Play to his good side, that's the rule when you're dealing with a Phantom. Don't humiliate him, humour him when it matters and _don't make him angry about ANYTHING!_

One of the boys finally raised his arm, a tad shakily. "You ought to find a place to haunt..."

"_Good..._" the teacher purred, narrowing his eyes. "What else? Anyone?" The Phantom rapped his knuckles onto his desk absently. The music box was silent today, the monkey still. "Come on, don't be shy."

"Set yourself up." a girl piped up. "Get a residence, make sure you can see and hear what's going on, then you make yourself known." She nodded slightly, pursing her lips as she checked that what she had said made sense.

The teacher nodded. "Yes, that's right. Can anyone else add more detail, though?" He looked around the room. I would say like a bird of prey, but that's a little cliché, isn't it? Irritated that no one else would answer, he started firing the questions at a faster rate. "Alright, what is the first thing that adds depth to a Phantom's persona? You in the corner."

The student flinched. "A... A facial disfigurement?"

"Good. What else? Ash Vinn, what do you say?"

Ash adjusted his mask as he spoke, a little nervous reflex of his. He came up with, "A mask, to cover the disfigurement."

The Phantom nodded. "Whatever else?"

I don't know why he bothered with this. He was already a qualified Phantom. But then, it could pop up in one of our exams... I looked to my left to see Estelle mouthing the answers to his questions to herself. I myself felt the urge to open my mouth. There was nothing else interesting to do. These questions were better than geography, at least.

"There's the passion for music and the arts that keeps showing up in the genetics." I said it quietly, but he heard me, whipping his gaze over to me.

"Very good. That's one of the biggest factors of character. But I'm afraid the love of music runs thinly in the blood these days." our teacher said. Was I going slightly insane from my loss of sleep, or did he sound a little disappointed about that?

But it was true. More than half of the Phantom wannabes that get a university degree don't know one instrument from the next. Some aren't that skilled in indentifying voice types, either. As soon as the old Phantoms pop their clogs, the theatres are going _to pot_ without anyone to keep things in order.

"Now, just a few more." the teacher continued. "Anyone willing to share?"

"A dash of madness." Estelle contributed at last, leaning on her elbow as she spoke. "That's the hook, isn't it? A bit of insanity, otherwise there'd be no point to life."

"A Phantom needs weaponry." another voice added. I think it was one of Ash's friends... "The classical Punjab lasso is the usual choice. A carefully-made torture chamber works as well."

The Phantom shot a question right back at the class. "Someone else: name the first one to be used widely."

Estelle was silently mouthing it over and over again, but still not speaking up. I was curious as to who else knew as well. I looked around the room with the teacher. Not Josephine, not Marie or Bethany. They were all clueless. Ash and his friend looked to be thinking hard, but the answer escaped them all. There were mumblings around the classroom. "Leroux! Something about Leroux..."

Making me rather frustrated, I remembered the letter it started with and its description, but nothing else. A six-sided room of mirrors, to multiply the view of an object...

The teacher was equally annoyed. He glared at us, his eyes still as dark and ominous as ever. "Come on, lads and ladies! Don't tell me you're that uncultured..."

I looked to Estelle. She was the only one that looked like she could save our skins. She met my eye at last, and she seemed to get my message.

Estelle raised her hand. "The catoptric cistula, sir."

The Phantom swung his eyes to her. "Ah. Very good. It's good to see that someone knows."

"It was the room of mirrors that was developed and perfected first, wasn't it, sir?" I added. "The hexagonal torture chamber."

"Yes. Though these two girls have done _reasonably_ well, I think we need to cover this a bit more. _Know your torture chambers, _if you want to make it on the outside." He virtually growled this at us.

I contemplated this for a moment. "But some of the modern day Phantoms don't use torture chambers." I countered. "They just...haunt. There are _plenty_ of examples right in this city!"

I should have known better than to start an argument, not with a Phantom. The teacher glowered at me for a bit, but it could have been my imagination. I was sleepy, and I hadn't forgotten about what had happened yesterday... He didn't say anything about my manners again, only asked me, "Well, why don't you tell us what they do?" The request seethed out between his teeth. He wanted to see if I knew what I was doing.

I ran my tongue over my lips. "The Phantoms in practice these days basically terrorise those of the place they chose to haunt..." I said slowly. "Often it's the management. Bit it could be the people that work inside the building, or the residents. Usually it's a mix. Scare people to death, scam some money off them and then go home." I was about to conclude, but then I was struck with another idea. The teacher would have eaten my head off if I had left it out. "But you have to be a really good Ghost! If you choose to be identified with a pathetic name, or your threats aren't good enough... No one believes you, and you won't get them to do your bidding. You ought to have some..._incentive._ Little accidents around the place. A broken arm, a falling vending machine, anything that will get people to believe you are a ghost of the building.

"And if they don't think you're a real ghost anyway, you still have to have some quality that will keep them in your command, like your ability to cause the accidents. Offer them something, such as your service or talent if the accidents don't work." I stopped suddenly, breathing hard. I was starting to sound like a university lecturer, or a self-help book!

But the Phantom seemed to approve of my description. "Quite a good summary of what it takes for a Ghost." Quick as a flash, another question for the class. "What's the best way to get what you want when you're haunting?"

Now this was _easy_. Everyone knew. In unison, we all cried, "Notes!"

The teacher nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the front of his wooden desk. "Very much correct. For homework, a note." He seemed to study us all again, the eyes behind the black Don Juan mask moving from left to right. "Make up the situation and the people you are sending the note to. You are an Opera Ghost! You don't even have to be in an opera house; choose whatever you like. But I need to clearly see in the note what you want and when, and what you have at your disposal if you do _not_ get what you want. That is what makes a note of an Opera Ghost!"

Our discussion had taken the entire morning session, and the bell for recess rang with truly savage volume just as the Phantom glanced at his wristwatch. I got up out of my chair, very glad to escape.

* * *

Estelle bit into her sandwich. She seemed to be staring at a point in the space in front of us, but no matter how hard I tried to follow her gaze I couldn't define exactly where.

"Dana, stop that. You look like a cane toad with constipation."

I smiled broadly. "Okay, okay. You're looking weird yourself." I started to tear apart my own recess. "Hey, do you think there's a Phantom's lair under the school?"

Estelle made a funny noise, sort of a 'hawk'ing sound. "Considering how many Phantoms and Ghosts are working today, the whole planet should be totally hollow." She counted off on her fingers. "Basements, cellars, caverns, sewers, not-always-explained lakes... The world should be set to implode!" She shook her head. "Anyway, it's the mysteries of the _universes_ I'm trying to figure out. You can predict the characteristics of this world easily enough."

I frowned at her. She'd completely lost me. "What on earth are you talking about? What do you mean, _this_ world?"

"Don't you ever think that there are more universes than the one you're living in? I mean," She paused to flick some bread crumbs off of her fantastically pinkskirt. "you could be watched by someone, or maybe millions of other beings, every moment of the day. Or maybe some can't see you at all." Estelle's eyelids began to blink at a much faster rate than what should be legal. "What if, other beings can _see_ you quite well, but they don't think you exist at all!"

"But we exist! We exist quite nicely! We're _real..._"

"But what if we _don't _exist to _them?"_ she said to me.

I laughed. "You're nuts, you know that?"

"Yup." Estelle said softly. "But I'm just saying, keep an open mind..."

* * *

The bell buzzed again, louder and longer than all the previous ones throughout the day. The architectural diagrams of several opera houses were dusted off the blackboard. Books were thrust mercilessly into schoolbags and sealed inside.

"Dana, please remain."

_How could I forget?_ I sat in my chair, looking straight ahead. Sighing absently, I counted the seconds it took everyone to leave, just to beat the typical end-of-day boredom. Within half a minute, everyone had left the room, save for the Phantom and I.

This seems a little like déjà-vu...

_Oh Michael Crawford help me._ Whatever happened next, I could only have myself plunged into it, willingly or not.

The Phantom got up from his desk and closed the door quietly after the last student had stumbled out.

I sighed softly again and swallowed. _Into the fire to burn._

He inclined his head to one side, looking at me. Alright, I'm sure I wasn't going nuts this time. He was smirking at me, waiting for me to slip up.

"Sir, what should I be doing?" I inquired politely. God, I sounded like a golden pony. If ponies could talk... Wow, that sounds so weird. Okay, losing thirty minutes of sleep is a lot for me, alright? _You_ try facing a Phantom on your own. "Should I be doing my homework, because I'd expect you'd rather not be babysitting me."

He walked calmly towards the students' tables. "Remember what it was that landed you in detention, Dana?"

"Was it not my mouth, sir?" I blinked gently, feigning an innocent student perfectly. Stupid ponies were invading my brain...

He chuckled softly, which really didn't suit his voice or his image. "I'll grant you quickness of tongue, definitely. But I'm here to teach you a tiny bit of patience. If you could learn to wait a little, you might learn more information. Isn't that right? Estelle wouldn't have to pass you notes anymore."

My head dropped about four centimetres, my posture shrivelling under his somewhat amused gaze. Hadn't he gotten enough fun out of me yesterday? It was only a minor matter, anyway. "And how would you suggest I do that, sir?" I responded hotly. Oh no, my temper was making its way back into my voice. If I didn't pull myself together, the situation could quickly become a repeat of yesterday morning.

The teacher gave the smallest shrug. "We'll see what works. But I never break my promises." He strode back up to his desk. "Have you ever tried meditating, Dana?"

I shook my head slightly, wary of what he was planning to put me through. "My mother has tried to teach me, but it just doesn't work for me." Memories of being incessantly tugged to Mum's yoga and meditation classes were not very pleasant.

"Well, try for a minute or two. I shall watch, and we'll come up with what to do next."

Oh, and suddenly it's _we._ What were we, colleagues on a project? Why did he keep changing his behaviour? If he wanted to confuse me psychologically, it was working.

I decided to be obedient and squeezed my eyes shut, attempting half-heartedly to empty my mind. After a short while I found that wrenching my eyelids together was too painful, and relaxed. The instinct to open my eyes eventually won over. I would just have to make do with staring at something, quickly deciding on the teacher's desk. This I did for who knows how long, with this odd man watching me intensely all the time.

Oh, you will think me weak-minded for this. I could not help it. My focus slid from the glossy top of the table and upwards...to the man sitting at it.

Time went on as my thoughts and eyes slipped to and fro. At a point the teacher tried to follow my gaze, rolling his eyes back into his head.

"You're looking at the clock, aren't you?"

It was more of a statement than a question that made its way out of his mouth. His voice, though soft and immaculate as it was, brought me crashing discordantly back to the situation at hand. I winced, cheeks rapidly going warm with annoyance at myself. He probably thought I was one of those careless girls that constantly thought she had better things to do. But in truth, I didn't.

He stood up then. "You're a perfect candidate." I looked at him in confusion, trying to get a clue from his facial expression. But the Phantom didn't move, the Phantom didn't speak. I waited, tensing, for something to happen.

And then the monkey on the desk clapped its little cymbals together.

The resulting sound sliced -rather pleasantly, though- through the silence of the near empty classroom, and the ones that followed quickly assembled into a well-known tune.

"The Masquerade Dance?" I asked, unable to help raising an eyebrow. Everyone knew the Masquerade tune. God knows how many have danced to it throughout history. I had only just finished voicing my phrase when I heard something else. No, more like _felt_ something else.

Colours leapt and flashed across my scope of vision. I hadn't been staring into the lights, had I? More spots of colour came. Each time they appeared, a sound seemed to come with it. Colour moving in synchronisation with notes; music flowing in time with waves of the sweetest shades. I felt my stomach rise up into my chest. I grabbed and scrambled at the edges of my desk as the sensation of rising into a fantastic peak overtook my senses. A beautiful sense of _up,_ and then the next second I was floating leisurely, seemingly on my back. And throughout the whole thing the music played, sweeping me along.

This was no Masquerade Dance.

"What..._is_ it?" I managed to make my throat whisper. Every syllable took a little power away from the musical notes, taking me further back to what was real.

The Phantom spoke even softer than usual. "The Music. The music around you, the music in you. It's the music-"

"Of the night!" I practically screamed the words as a particularly upbeat section of the music started. It took me to places. They were places I'd never dreamed of, places I didn't think could ever exist, so bizarre and mysterious. The happiest moments of my life were relived inside the music, the funniest, the most ironic and the heart-wrenchingly beautiful. It was then that I realised the monkey-shaped music box's tune was only stimulation, the colours were only accompaniment. The Music was _supreme!_

Something happened. I've got no idea what (that's happening increasingly), but the music stopped. I could imagine it gracefully bowing with its final tones. The music had ended and the world came back.

He nodded at me, or perhaps it was to himself. "Music," he said huskily, "is another universe. A beautiful universe that is beyond your wildest dreams."

I was breathing quickly, trying to control myself but to no effect. "It's..." I began.

The Phantom only held up his hand and nodded sagely. "I know." he said simply. He glanced quickly at his watch. "And now it's time for you to go home, Dana."

I brought my eyes to the classroom clock, ticking innocently above the chalkboard. It read three-fifty, forty-five minutes after school had ended and forty-five minutes after I had started my detention. It couldn't be! I couldn't have sat there in almost complete silence for _forty-five minutes!_

But nevertheless, I had to leave. As I wearily picked up my bag and made my way to the door, I looked back. "I don't know how to thank you." I said anxiously, not knowing what I was supposed to say. "But... Thank you."

The Phantom stood up and held open the door. "I am a teacher by profession, Dana." I turned away just in time to catch, with peripheral vision, his first true smile that was intended for me. "Don't forget your homework." he said quietly after me as I walked down the corridor.

My mother was waiting in the car, parked inside the school car park and with the radio on loud. I had told her about receiving detention yesterday, and today she had taken the car to pick me up. She hadn't seemed significantly bothered by it then; I had only been late, after all... At least I _think_ she wasn't too upset about it. I have no clue about the mind of the human above the age of twenty.

* * *

"So, how was school?" she asked, looking up from the steering wheel at me.

I dropped my bag onto the ground and leaned against the open window, feeling exhausted after the session with the Music. "Okay." I wheezed. I opened the front passenger door and slid inside the car with a relieved exhalation of breath.

"And how was detention?"

I grabbed the seatbelt and clicked it into place, allowing a grin to spread across my face at its leisure. I turned to my mother. "If that's detention," I said slowly, "then I'm going to be the most evil child in history!" With that, I sank back into the car seat and closed my eyes, tiredly plotting what I was going to do tomorrow.

**Hope you enjoyed and please R&R!**

**DarkFlameOfTheMonkey, here to make your life just that little bit more confusing**


	5. She Who is Confused

**A/N: This is Jamster's chapter. We had a touch of writer's block, so I'm afraid this chappie's a little boring. Just a filler.**

**Disclaimer: I'm too tired to say it...**

She Who is Confused

_Ahhhhhhh!_ The pictures seemed to drift around in my head. They were pictures of me completely, utterly naked and walking into the classroom. _Ahahahahaah! _Faces were apple red from laughter as I walked into the classroom. I couldn't swallow the blockage in my neck, that lump in your throat you get when you cry. I couldn't stand that helpless feeling! My sobs were going to explode out of me.

Then, of all the things that could have happened, I could hear the footsteps, out in the hallway. The gait of the Phantom could never be mistaken, and he was walking closer and closer to the room. I didn't know where to run or hide. My hysteric tears finally burst out and I could neither control it nor stop it. I frantically tugged at the classroom cupboards but they were all locked. The footsteps were getting closer and closer... Oh god!

I shuddered awake from another of my nightmares. _Okay, come on Dana. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you, _I thought, reassuring myself. I pinched myself, just in case I forgot to breathe. I swivelled my head to look at the clock. It glowed in the darkness, reading: '5:48 am, Friday' in red. Groaning at how much sleep I was going to lose, I jumped off the bed and dragged my legs to the bedroom en suite. It was a _lot_ smaller than the main bathroom, but it was there anyway. It was basically just a toilet. My tiny, disgusting but convenient en suite.

I looked around at the tiles. There was nothing strange to indicate that I was going mental. Walls, toilet, sink. All there, and most importantly, not singing Broadway songs at me.

_How disgusting can a bathroom get? _I wondered. I noticed that the basin sinkhole was well overdue for a clean and that the tiles were orange. The tiles were supposed to be white... _I definitely need a cleaner, though I'm sure Mum won't let me hire anyone. _I turned on the tap and washed the sleep out of my eyes.Looking up into the mirror, I noticed something that shouldn't have been there. _Oh my god! What is that?_

I brought my head closer to the mirror and examined it. My mouth widened.

_How can this be happening to me? A pimple, on sport day? But please, Mr. Pimple, I already got my sport uniform ready last night! Now that's a first for me. Please go away, by the count of three! One...two...three...!_

I closed my eyes tightly and waited. I finally squinted from behind my eyelashes and analysed my face again. My head was still there, and so was the pimple.

_Fine, I'll just stay home and clean the bathroom. _I thought, still hoping that it would be another nightmare. But it wasn't. The pinches didn't work any more, to wake me up or to squeeze the pimple.

Half an hour later, I was on all fours with brush and a spray bottle of cleaning agent in my hands. _Well, here we go._ I threw away my good sense and started spraying and scrubbing. To be honest, the bathroom wasn't bad after a while. It was _definitely_ better than before. When I had finally finished, I had gained an aching back and neck for my trouble. It hurt like hell, as did all my limbs. My nose was filled by the scent of several cleaning brands and their chemicals, and my eyes were stinging from them.

I made up my mind to go down into the kitchen, risk waking Mum and get a drink of water. I then sat at the kitchen table until seven-thirty, counting the minutes. I wanted time to go faster. I so much needed a weekend. Gulping down the rest of the waterand putting the jug back into the fridge, I wandered around the house for a further fifteen minutes, thinking about the other house chores I could do.

I do not know how it happened, but I went from 7:45 am to four in the afternoon in a heartbeat. In a blink, Mum was halfway into the house, juggling her handbag, keys and miscellaneous possessions.

"Honey, you home? Sorry I'm late back but there was a stuff-up at the hospital. Some stupid photographer guy decided to follow a famous Phantom to his house and the poor bloke got beaten up... I've been working on those rope-burns since noon!" Mum deposited her things on the kitchen table and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dana, never become part of the paparazzi. Don't ever stalk the Phantoms, that's their job."

I came out of the living room with a smile. "Hi Mum. Don't worry about it, it's fine." I said pleasantly. Mum always had shared the news of her job with me. We managed to make conversation out of it quite well.

My mother smiled and relaxed, but she gave a tiny frown when she saw me in my jeans and shirt. "Why aren't you in uniform? You've always been a slob when you get home."

My shoulders shot up to my ears (very incriminating) and I stuttered a bit before saying, "Oh, I...uh...had a shower when I got home because we had sport at school today." It was another pleasing reply, for my mother said no more. I fell into a kitchen chair as she went to the fridge and started getting food for dinner. I had only been sitting two seconds when the phone began ringing.

"Dana, can you get that?"

I ran into the living room and snatched the cordless phone up from the coffee table. "Hello."

"Um, is this the Parkton residence?" a quiet voice asked.

"Hey, Estelle!" I said brightly. I could hear her let out a relieved breath of air on the other end of the line.

"What are you up to, Dana?" she asked me.

"Ah... Nothing much." I answered. _Why is it that whenever I'm on the phone I can't think of anything to say?_ That was something I always noticed.

"That's great." She trailed off and I could tell Estelle wanted to ask me something, but seemed to be trying hard not to sound desperate. "So what are you doing on the weekend?"

"Not sure." I said brusquely.

"Right..." Estelle trailed off again.

I could think of nothing worthwhile to say and so I asked, "What news have you got for me?"

"I just called to know if you were all right because you were away at school." she said.

"Thanks, Es." I said sincerely. "It's good to know that somebody cares."

"It's not a problem. Anyway," She dragged out the word and I could tell that I had some task to do. "I just needed to tell you that we have to do an essay on one historic Phantom or Ingénue. Mr Gerik says we have to write until our hands are sore. Write to that point, plus up to five additional lines. He didn't give us an exact number of words, just that." Estelle stated with an annoyed tone.

"That's child abuse!" I cried. Why doesn't he just chop off our hands one at a time? It would get a similar effect, and he wouldn't have to do any marking.

We both laughed at my quip and talked about each other's day. Estelle sat with some other girls and all the rest... It sort of mashed up in my brain with all the other information. I went on to explain my day, one hundred percent of it an extravagant fabrication. In simpler words: a lie.

"My god, Dana. I can't believe it. A cough, fever, headache... And you had a nosebleed when you were asleep and you didn't know it until there was a three-inch wide pool on your pillow? Holy cow!" she gushed after I had told her about the awful time I had. I _had_ been a little over-the-top, but it was only fun.

"You should have told me earlier." Estelle whinged to me. "I could have come over to you place. I can come now, if you want."

"No, no, it's fine! You might catch the virus. I'll be fine." I assured her, wondering whether to put in a few coughs for good measure. "Anyway, Mum might ask why I'm talking for so long. See you!"

"You sure, Dana? All right then..." Estelle's voice faded for a second until she shouted into the phone again. "By the way, the teacher's really been missing you!"

"Huh?!" I shot into the mouthpiece, confused. I had been about to hang up. What was she talking about?

"I'm serious. The first thing he said when he came into the classroom was, 'Where's Dana gone?'" Estelle seemed genuine. "Dana," she said, a sugary note going into her voice, "pray tell of the happenings of yesterday's detention?"

"Estelle, cut it out with the British accent." I ordered, a giggle making its way up my throat. "You're awful. Dear lady, I pray that you not massacre all the accents you can try!" I tried with my own attempt at the accent. "Anyway, see you next week." I pushed the button to hang up and threw the phone onto the sofa. Deciding to join it there, I threw myself down into the depths of a cushion and thought about the essay I had to write.

Christine Daae was the first thing that popped into my head. Beautiful, innocent, angelic... I had enough to write about. I could raid Mum's magazines for articles, and I myself had cut out some pictures and clippings from the newspaper. Plenty of resources!

I'd better include something about the famous love triangle. Wouldn't do to forget the love triangle...

Ms Daae had always fascinated me, almost as much as our new teacher did. They both commanded attention in their own different ways. She was an eye-catching person with her looks and astounding voice; he turned heads for different reasons, for his aura was always dark and incited immediate obedience. They were really both beyond words. Every magazine I have ever read had called them the couple of perfection.

_Why are the Ingénues always so darn pretty?_ I could barely replicate a 'Christine Daae' look or two with a lot of tweaking with my hair, but I was nowhere near as lovely as any Daae. A Phantom would never fall for me, now, would he?

Would he?

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Mum calling for me to peel some carrots. She was pouring herself some cold water when I walked into the kitchen. A tidal wave came out of the jug and there atop the green foam was Mr Gerik, with his arms crossed and looking down at everything like always...

* * *

_WOAH._ I shook myself and sat up, looking frantically around my bedroom. The digital clock shone at me.

5:48 am, Friday.

_What the hell?_

I fell back onto the pillow, suddenly very freaked out and trying to think logically. Okay. Monday was the pupil-free day, where only the teachers came to school to plan and prepare. Tuesday was the first day of school. Wednesday was when I had come late. Thursday was my detention. And yesterday...today...

_What the?!_ I groaned, rolling onto my side. This was far too weird. It confused me, and I doubted I would ever understand it. Not now, anyway. Not at five in the morning.

I had been dreaming I was in a dream?

As I have already said: What the?

I was struck with a thought and brought my hand to my face, feeling around. The pimple was there, a lump on my skin. What a premonition! That really just made things more confusing...

Why couldn't that dream had been nice like my one about getting abducted by the Phantom? I had at least enjoyed that one. En suite? I didn't _have_ an en suite! And under no circumstances would I have stayed home from school because of a pimple! Come on, it's only a tiny dot. Less than one percentage of your face!

Excitedly, I twisted my body and reached to open my bedside drawer. I rummaged amidst the junk for a while, eventually feeling a band-aid and raising it into the air. Triumph! I ripped off the paper and carefully placed the band-aid onto my cheek.

Oh yeah, no pimple was going to stop me.

**The cough, fever, headache and nose bleed? That might not have happened to Dana, but it happened to me a few weeks ago (when I wasn't able to update).**

**Well, ciao!**


	6. The Blade of Misfortune

**A/N: Two chapters in one weekend! Sweet! This was written by me (DarkFlameOfTheMonkey, the stupider half of APennyForYourThought). I experimented with a segment in third person, so review and let us know what you think! As always, hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, Jamster does not own The Phantom of the Opera, I hope you will give me the rights to PotO for my birthday next week...**

The Blade of Misfortune

_Yes!_ I have done it! I have succeeded!

I've made it to school.

And I_ didn't _forget my sport uniform at home! Is that sweet or what?

I don't know why I was so happy, but after my horrible night it was such a tremendous relief. I felt like I was on good terms with the Phantom, and it was only two hours of history and maths until we could go over to Madame Giry for our weekly sport lesson. I couldn't wait.

There's a strange school policy that we can't wear our sport uniform to or from St Gerik's. We have to take it to school, change and then change back before we leave for home. I thought it terribly bothersome, but it's something about school image. But I'm not really surprised. The girls' sport uniform barely uses a metre of fabric. Very nicely-patterned fabric, yes. But it's just a bra and a _very_ thin skirt. No wonder they don't want us going out wearing that! It does look very nice once you get used to it, but I expect it will be very cold when I get changed.

As it turns out, I had hardly predicted anything correctly with my most recent dream. All I got was the pimple. It was no better than my abduction dream. But the good news was that I didn't get any homework. It seemed like a great morning to me, and it was.

Although, I might've gotten half a mark for the 'the teacher's really been missing you' thing I had dreamed Estelle saying to me. He didn't direct any _more_ attention on me than all the previous schooldays, but it was nice, positive attention. I honestly felt like melting into the desk, I was so self-conscious. Could it be that I was beginning to make my way into the teacher's pet mould? It wouldn't be something that I think I would enjoy, as I despise teacher's pets. But then: this is the Phantom, I am me, and I guess I'll just have to wait.

You may think I'm in a hurry to put all this information down, and you're right. There was a great happening today, but I will not tell you out of order.

Our sport lesson came quickly. The Phantom sent us off, telling us where to find the change rooms. The girls went into one, the boys into another. I guess they didn't have to change much of their clothing, as when I came out the boys had very much the same clothes on, less the heavy black cape. Every girl hurriedly changed, tied up her hair and exited.

My own uniform let me feel every single breeze, as I had thought. All of the female students huddled together, hugging themselves and complaining to their companions. The entire class stood in one noisy mass in the sports hall, where we were met by Madame Giry and her daughter.

"Boys into one group, girls into another!" the older woman called as she neared. "As you probably already know, I am Madame Giry. I will only accept _Madame_ Giry, if you will." Turning to her daughter I heard her say, "Meg, you take the boys first."

I only managed to study Madame Giry more closely when the class separated, and that was with a bit of fighting towards the front of the group. She was not an _excessively _aged woman, but she did look like she had a few eventful years to her credit. And yet she still demanded order and wielded control with simply her presence, just like the Phantom. Madame Giry carried a cane and had a long plait of her brown hair falling down her back that swung around as she moved. With a single look, you knew that she was an imposing woman.

"Now," she started. "you girls will learn about dance techniques this term." Her voice was a little high-pitched, edged with a mild accent. "You will be learning a choreographed dance as well, which you will be assessed on." Madame Giry paused and smiled gently. "But other than that, no worries."

And so began forty-five minutes of stretching, leaping, looking like we were very emotional about the dancing, and generally waving our limbs around excessively. It was very tiring and ever so repetitive. There were several times when I stopped and thought that Madame was about to kill us all, and then I would have to move into another stage of the dance. I can state without any doubts that all of the girls were one hundred percent exhausted within a short time.

Halfway through the sporting lesson Mme. Giry and her daughter swapped positions. Madame immediately started to criticise the boys, who were doing an obstacle course of rope-climbing and manning trapdoors, enhanced with a few targets that they had to run through with a fencing sword.

"Get some will into ya, lads!" the old lady cried loudly. "Do you _want_ to get caught by the Daroga or stagehands? What would your parents say if a _ballet girl _managed to catch you?" Madame Giry clapped her hands sharply. "You'll have to do better than that! Remember, you'll be wearing a cape as well in the real world!"

Meg Giry jogged over to us, throwing her sword down as she went. She looked like she was in her twenties, with long, thick blonde hair. At present she was wearing a pair of brown pants and a loose white shirt, but she seemed at home teaching both girls and boys. (I think I heard whistles when she was teaching the boys how to fence.)

"Alright girls, let's do it from the top!" Meg clapped and stepped back to watch us. Within minutes, she had seen that we were out of energy.

"Aw, come on! I thought it was every girl's secret dream to be a ballerina!" Meg Giry said to us, trying to rally a shred of enthusiasm from the tired group of girls. "Or at least show off! Come on, pick it up!"

Another jump that way, a turn here, a swing of the arms over there, and I was ready to explode.

"Hey, quit laughing!" I yelled at a few boys who had snickered. "_You_ come try this dancing if you feel so cocky! Come on, don't be shy!" Some of the girls near me shouted agreement. I continued to rant. "You're lucky; all you have to do is throw a lasso on top of a piece of cardboard and stick a sword into another piece a few times! Try doing some darn _pirouettes_ for an hour!" I screamed at them.

The boys of the class were obviously displeased and insulted by this, denying that their task was so simple. One cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back. "Well, why don't you lovely ladies pick up a sword and test yourselves? We're up for it! We need a bit of variety. The challenge would do us good." he taunted.

Every girl had stopped dancing now, ready for a shouting match if need be. Even Madame and Meg were concentrating on the battle.

"Oh, you're admitting that we're a challenge to you, eh?" I teased.

The boy stared in surprise, while those near him elbowed him and said, "Oh, thanks a lot, mate."

Madame Giry smiled freely. "Meg, I think there's only one way to resolve this."

Meg nodded, her ponytail bobbing. "Oh, what a predicament! It's been ages since something like this happened, Mother."

"And I'm enjoying it immensely." Madame Giry laughed and beckoned to me. "Are you willing to accept the challenge, girl? Oh, what was your name again?"

I jogged over, starting to get nervous about all this. "Dana, Madame.'

Madame Giry put her hand on my shoulder. "Dana, do you accept this challenge?"

I didn't really think thoroughly before saying, "I suppose so."

"Come on, show 'em what the girls can do!" encouraged Meg. At this all of the girls cheered and raised their fists.

"Well, I'll get you kitted out." Meg said, handing me a meshed face-guard.

Madame Giry tapped her cane onto the ground loudly. "Boys, you've got a duel on your hands! Choose your best!"

_Oh my Michael Crawford, _I thought worriedly as Meg handed me one of the swords. I soon faced one of the boys, prepared in the same way I was.

Meg stood between us. "Okay, I want a clean fight. Dana, no hitting below the belt. And Edwin," she pointed to my opponent. "no pulling on Dana's hair. Okay, _let's see some duelling!_" Meg announced, quickly ducking and stepping backwards.

The boys whooped as their representative dealt the first blow. It was only instinct that brought my arm and sword up to block it. And that was all I had. No experience, no strategy, only the raw instinct that came at random moments. Edwin, I think his name was, was obviously better at fencing than I was. But I had an ace up my sleeve.

I turned swiftly around and ran to the gymnastics equipment.

Edwin followed, shouting that I was being a coward. Well, perhaps I was, but it was only self defence.

I jumped up on top of the balancing beam, thinking to use the height as an advantage. There I managed to make a few slashes at my opponent, until he ran out of my range and mounted the beam as well. A strange dance ensued, the two of us walking back and forth, taking care where we put our blades and when to strike. By then I was sort of getting the rhythm of it, gaining a heightened sense of what was happening. I managed a few thrusts, but always missed striking his body. Edwin touched my arm with his fencing sword, but I moved quickly to cover it up. Come on, it wasn't that major a hit... I think it's called a parry when you block a blow, isn't it? Oh well. I didn't care.

Parry, slash to the left, thrust at your opponent's chest, another parry...

Trip on the back of your skirt and fall off the beam, losing your sword as you fell onto the blue mat.

When I scrambled back onto my feet, there was a sharp point pressed to my back just below my shoulder blades.

_Crap,_ was the only thing I could bear to think.

Edwin leaned forward and asked into my ear, "This really isn't your lucky day, is it?"

"Oh, not at all." I said lightly. "In fact, the exact opposite."

"I see." he replied.

"Impressive skills you have." I commented emotionlessly, angry at how it wasn't fair that _he_ didn't have a skirt to trip over.

"Impressive fall."

"Thank you."

And then everyone suddenly clapped crazily.

On a whim I decided to milk my temporary fame, and bowed.

* * *

The corridor was quiet.

Josephine Marrick's ballet slippers did not add any sound. The painted door marked her destination. The metallic number 11 at the top of the doorjamb glinted in the fluorescent lights. Before she opened the door, the only sound was her breathing.

And then the doorknob squealed.

The girl tried to look natural, walking into the room breezily. The teacher was at his desk, reading and marking a sheet of paper. Josephine inched closer. Nearer and nearer still, until she was right by the wooden desk.

She was slow with her movements. He should have seen. Maybe he did, and was waiting for her. Maybe he wanted some fun as well as the girl.

Between her thumb and forefinger, Josephine pulled the stiff black covering up...back...off.

_Too many people in this world die with their last sight of the world the face of death himself._

A woman in a similar position once said, _"Oh horror, horror, horror."_

Josephine Marrick didn't even get the chance to scream.

* * *

Josephine Marrick has _got_ to be_ the _STUPIDEST girl that ever walked the planet.

When everyone else was changing after sport, Josephine was off in the hallways, thinking she could get some fun. She broke the number one rule of our class. Heck, she broke the number one rule of life _itself!_

Never touch a Phantom's mask.

Of course, there are several loopholes and exceptions to this, as there are with every rule. You will probably be excused from extreme punishment if the Phantom happens to be completely, totally, helplessly in love with you. But this was Mr Gerik. This was a _commandment_.

Moron.

For us, it began with, "Where's Josephine?"

"Dunno. Her sports bag is here."

"Where's she off to?"

"Might've gone to the toilet."

"Won't wait for her then."

And for us, that was the end of it.

But Estelle noticed straight away when we got back from lunch that Josephine had been missing for an extremely long time, sending me a meaningful glance that had made me break out in a cold sweat.

I knew, without having to go and check, that Josephine's sport bag was still in the girls' change room. And no one would be coming to retrieve it soon.

**Well, hope you liked the chapter, thank you for reading and please review witha nything you have to say!**

**DarkFlame**


	7. Before She Knew It

**A/N: Very sorry for the delay; this chapter was written by Jamster; I didn't edit much since she liked it; if you find any errors please alert us with a review since my concentration's been going all over the place this week; VERY SORRY for any big mistakes and the wait for an update.**

**Disclaimer: God, too tired to say it...**

Before She Knew It 

Monday morning. Another week has started.

"Today I will distribute your homework which will cover 30 percent of your year's total mark. And that would be your Case Studies assignment. I urge you to think about this one carefully before you put the nib on the parchment." A smirk appeared on the Phantom's face before it was quickly wiped away into a look of impatience. "What is it Bronte?"

"Um...I, well...just, uh..." Bronte continued to stammer as he struggled to find the right words. "Sorry sir, I forgot. Never mind."

"Forgot what you were about to say, have you Bronte?" the teacher asked, letting the incredulous tone of his voice rip out Bronte's guts. Figuratively, of course.

Bronte cringed and looked at the rest of the class to save him, turning his head around with increasing worry.

"Bronte?"

He nodded and looked at his fingers, which were twisting with fear. Bronte had just opened his mouth when a voice piped up from behind me. I twisted around to see who had spoken, as did we all.

"Sir?"

He tapped his desk and swiftly turned around before focusing his gaze on the person who had the courage to speak. "What is it?" the Phantom snapped.

"Some students said that there was an incident that occurred last Friday. And I was wondering if you could tell us?" Edwin said, bravely continuing. How could it be that Edwin's voice didn't crack in terror?

The man who had seemed so calm before now had anger raging in his irises. His eyes skimmed over the room before turning to the board, picking up the chalk and scribbling the words _'Case Studies assignment: Choose between a Phantom, Ingénue or event that was famously known throughout history. Due two weeks from today! Note: Will not accept any more assignments after this date'. _He finished underlining the last line, stopped writing and carefully placed the chalk onto the thin shelf under the blackboard. Everyone braced themselves for what was to happen next. To be honest, I didn't really think that he could do all that much to us, but my sceptical thoughts were quickly washed away when I remembered what he had done to Josephine Marrick. Josephine's table and chair had been removed from the room. We were meant to carry on as if she had never existed. Remembering this, I started to sweat again. Soon there was a pool of liquid on my desk around my hands, where my fingers were bent and clutching the edge of the table.

Somewhere in this little room was a deadly length of rope, or a knife, or a silenced gun... Sometimes you forget that Phantoms know how to kill.

He faced us, not smiling or showing any other feelings behind his blank look and started rummaging through his bag, reaching for something that was surely at the bottom of the bag. Silence fell and everyone waited for him to reveal the item. Slowly, part of his hand was revealed from inside the satchel and then nothing. He held nothing at all. We looked at each other for answers and then back at him.

_Brrr...!_ The bell for recess rang, breaking the silence that had held us seemingly for as long as I could remember, but it really was only since the morning. The Phantom blinked once and sat down, waiting for us to leave. I was sure that every student was as confused as I was and I was longing to talk about the lesson at recess. Everyone started to forward out, grabbing their belongings and all kept their eyes to themselves or the floor which had suddenly seemed so interesting or easier to look at.

I looked up at the teacher, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. Except you knew he still carried the same dangerous feel whenever sharing the same room as him, like the first day he entered the classroom. "Dana, come on." Estelle's voice rang loudly in my ears and I was pulled out of the classroom before I could gather my things.

"Wait, wait, I still have to get my stuff," I hissed at her, fighting to get out of the stream of people.

"Are you insane, is he insane, am I going crazy...?" her voice trailed on but I didn't really listen to the rest. I pulled away from her grip and stomped into the classroom where the Phantom sat. He had his head down but looked up when he saw me. I pretended that I didn't notice his gaze on me and focused on my tattered shoes. The sound of my footsteps was the only sound audible in the nearly empty classroom. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder after shoving my possessions inside as quickly as I could before I looked at him.

"Dana, isn't it? Still here?" the rich, passionate voice spoke, provoking a tremble up my back. It reminded me of the dream I had had - the atmosphere, emptiness and loneliness all felt the same. My head shot up and I looked at him, not wanting him to speak any more.

_I need to get out of here... _"Yes, sir," I said uneasily and pulled on a smile. He smiled to himself before looking down again. I knew this wasn't a good idea. My feet were taking me out of the classroom before I even knew it. Estelle looked at me and hooked her arm into mine, hurriedly leading me away, and together we walked to recess.

* * *

"What happened in there?" her frantic voice echoed beside me. Estelle was sure I was hypnotised or something worse.

_Better not scare her Dana, just answer her, _I thought. "Nothing, Es. I walked in, grabbed my stuff and headed out. I promise that's all I did. So anyways, what do you think happened to Gerik today? He kind of overreacted." I said, hoping to distract her from our previous subject.

"I know, but that is a bit of an understatement, don't you reckon?" she said and a smile appeared on her face. I smiled back broadly, relaxing my tensed shoulders and stuck my tongue at her. She tugged on my hair in retaliation, followed by a smack on the back of my head and started to peer off into space again. I decided that I wouldn't try to find what exactly she was looking at or what she was trying to figure out, in case she called me something - a cane toad with constipation.

"Hoy! Estelle."

"What?"

"We've got two weeks for our first assignment. What are you going to do?" I questioned her.

She bit her lip, hurriedly considering. "He said we could do an event, right? Probably the first chandelier crash of the Opera Garnier is what I'm going for."

"The old Garnier in Paris?" I thought about this for a second. "Oh, come on. It wasn't that major. Only killed one person, and she was just the concierge!"

"And what about you, Dana?" Estelle pressed me.

"Christine Daae." I said slowly.

"You could always do a scientific report on Mr Gerik." Estelle pointed out. "Delve into the psychological mind of your own mentor."

We both laughed about this. He _had_ been acting strange today. My thoughts were disturbed when the bell rang, even though we still hadn't finished our recess and definitely not our conversation. How we dearly dreaded that classroom.

* * *

By the time everyone had sat down in their seats, the teacher had walked in, set down his items and sat down. No one dared speak, for his presence was like someone had cast a spell of silence. I decided that I would continue the conversation - notes. It was risky but it was worth it. I wanted to know what everyone thought of the teacher's behaviour. Ripping a piece of paper from my notebook, I quietly scribbled the words _'Teacher: Sane or Insane?'_ onto it. Folding it carefully into a square, I threw it swiftly behind me where the other students sat and waited.

"Dana, you've got detention." a voice spoke from the front of the room. My heart raced and my thoughts spun. What if he read it? Oh no, he's going to hate me. The teacher walked over to where the note lay on the ground, just underneath Edwin's table. The Phantom opened it very slowly although he didn't look at it, yet. My heart felt as if it was going to rip itself out of my ribcage and before I knew it, I was holding the note. Everyone was looking at me, shocked. I realised then that I had snatched the piece of paper straight out of his hands.

_Eat it! _I felt an instinct inside my head command.

Stupid instincts. When I need them the most they don't help me at all.

I felt tears rushing to my eyes and I rubbed them to remove the blurriness to look at the person who stood a pace in front of me.

"Well, well, well...!" the Phantom said.

**As I've said, please drop a review if you have anything to say about this chapter or about the story. I know this chapter was sort of short; I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP!**


	8. AntiClimactic

**A/N: Completely random chapter that has no real point...**

**I'd just like to say a big thank you to all of those who have read the story up until now and who have reviewed! Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Le Fantome d l'Opera, Anthony Warlow (he's the Phantom in Australia, I love 'im!) or Gerard Butler's head (which I have failed utterly to draw, by the way)...**

Anti-Climatic

_Oh Almighty Gaston Leroux, please grant me something anti-climatic!_ I pleaded in my mind.

"If that scrap of paper is so important to you, then keep it."

I looked down at my feet, trying to look regretful and willing to be reprimanded. But my brain was going, _Yesss!_

The Phantom glared slightly at me. "I'm pulling your leg. Throw it in the bin. I don't want to see it in my class." He made his way back to his desk, sitting down and steepling his fingers. Looking at me over them, he said, "And tell your mother that you're staying back at school tomorrow."

Now, I would have taken this punishment and I would have endured it. But the catch was the entire class saw what had just happened. Public humiliation is worse than private torture, sometimes. That's why they hang and behead people publicly. But at least those poor people were dead afterwards... I had no doubt that this man was out of his mind. Either he gives me special treatment or he shames me in front of everyone; if he picked one or the other my life would be a lot simpler!

I slumped back into my chair, bumping my hip hard on the table corner but hardly caring. _I hate Mondays,_ I thought distractedly.

But hey, at least it was anti-climatic!

* * *

I put on a brave and impassive face all the way through literary studies, history, the lunch break and general Phantomy. Mum was waiting for me when I got home, as well as another person.

"I'll just go straight to my room then, shall I?" I grinned like a cartoon character and walked backwards into the corridor leading to my bedroom.

"The first thing you say when you come home is that?" Mum said laughingly. "Don't you ever say hello like a normal person? Oh, what am I to do when my own daughter has left me?" she shouted dramatically, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and falling backwards on her heels.

She was caught just in time by Charles, who grabbed her around the waist. A tad clumsily, I might add.

"Please don't do that when you're wearing an expensive dress. It may not be saved." Charles said to my mother. "I can't teleport." He looked up. "Hello Dana. Tell me, has your mother been at the chocolate again?"

"Charles!" Mum cried, sighing in a second mock faint.

"I'm sure he's only joking, Mum." I put in.

Mum frowned. "He should be, since making fun of me is your job and yours alone."

I nodded vigorously, joining in to chastise Mum's boyfriend. "It's my turf. Don't go mowing the lawn."

Charles swung Mum back into a standing position, the both of them laughing. I have no idea what they thought was so funny. I don't understand adults, especially not men. "How was school?" Charles asked, settling on the sofa.

"Why do you adults _always _say that?" I threw up my arms and leaned on the arm of the sofa. "I have detention tomorrow, just so you know."

"What was it this time?" Mum sighed, sitting down as well. "Was it your mouth? You're always getting into tight places with that racing tongue of yours. You just hope you can get out with it as well."

"Actually, I was completely silent through the whole ordeal." I informed them. After I had explained the situation, Charles tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"You know that all the great Phantoms were hard, cruel men. Some more than others, but it's something that shows up again and again in all of them. How would you expect to fare in a torture chamber belonging to that teacher of yours?"

"Badly." I answered. "I'd be dead in the exact amount of time he wanted me to be dead."

"Pretty much." Charles agreed, nodding.

"But _you're_ a big softie." Mum said, shoving him in the shoulder. Charles didn't have a facial disfigurement, but he did have a fake one at home. He wore a mask, but he always took it off when he came to visit. Not everyone can be born ugly and not everyone wants to get splashed with acid, burned with flames or have permanent markers scrawled across their face for hours. Sometimes it's nice to be a bit _more_ normal than that, as Charles said. It wouldn't do to have a third of the world hiding in darkness all their lives and complaining that they were hideous monsters, would it? Even if there are laws against discrimination around here.

"Tis a strange man anyway." I said to them, and then went into my room like I had promised.

* * *

It was Tuesday lunchtime that I gained even more muddling information about the man that was conducting my detention that afternoon.

Estelle and I had walked past Room 18, on our way to the library for some reading during the break. Then I noticed that there indeed was a door next to the room, just as Estelle had told me when I met her.

"Were you serious about the whole...'swimming pool for the water polo team' thing?" I asked her slowly.

"I read it in the pamphlet..." Estelle said warily. "In the section about sporting opportunities."

"Take a look?" I asked quickly. It excited me a little. Chaney Public would never have afforded a swimming pool, no matter what. Money would have been spent on other things.

"It's probably only small. Nothing amazing." Estelle put forward.

I looked at her, a lopsided and sneaky smile on my face. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?" I opened the door, finding a dark, concrete staircase sloping down. "It can be a swimming pool or an underground lair." I stated confidently. "Either way, let's go!"

Estelle grabbed my left arm as she followed me down the steps, hissing into my ear. "If you do this, you might be going to detention again on Wednesday. And I don't really want to be there, even if it is with you."

"You can turn back. I'll come back and tell you what I find."

Estelle shook her head. "No. Just...go slowly. That should be safe."

I giggled. "What's safe if every teacher in the school has a Punjab lasso in their pocket?"

"Don't make a noise!" Estelle commanded, digging her fingers into my forearm. We were halfway down the stairs now, and I could see something white past the last step. We descended the rest of the stairs, and reaching the bottom, held on to the handrail to brace ourselves and stretched to look out past the walls on either side of us.

"Wow." Estelle said quietly and simply. To the right of us was a long, swimming pool with lanes and surrounded by white tiles. The water in the pool was so _blue _it hurt_. _I guessed it was maybe something like thirty or forty metres long. Nothing like an Olympic swimming pool, but for a school, that was almost unbelievable.

"Water polo team?!" I hissed. "The school probably has races in here!"

Estelle made a small but frantic pointing motion next to my ear. "See that?"

My gaze followed her finger and nearly fell over. How ironic that I should find our very own Mr Gerik on the diving board. He was on the end of the pool farthest from us, so I felt pretty safe. There was no one else swimming or wandering around either, which made it a lot better for us.

"Taking bets now: Does he have chest hair or not?"

"Estelle!"

"What?" She blinked slowly, looking innocent.

"Don't use the pretty-five-year-old-girl look on me. _Phantom._ Get that into your head! They're not supposed to have chest hair. And if they do, we're not supposed to be thinking about it."

"I'm just saying... Oh god, he's jumping."

The diving board wasn't that high up, I assumed for the children's safety. I could see the board bend, but then our teacher stopped suddenly. Estelle and I shrank back into the stairway. "He must have seen us." I whispered fearfully.

We waited half a minute until we heard the diving board moving again, then we looked back out. He was preparing for a jump, and for a completely horrifying moment his head was turned straight at us. Then our teacher was off, arcing in the air. The splash shattered the silence around us and made my arms instinctively contract towards my body. _No one here, _I thought, trying to calm myself. _There's no one here._

"Wow." Estelle repeated. "He's good. Surfacing... He might be getting out. Anyway, we should be departing. Don't you think?"

"Yeah." I agreed. After about twenty seconds, neither of us had moved a step. "Aren't you going to walk backwards and drag me away?" I questioned Estelle.

"I was waiting for you to do it..." she answered.

"Spoil all my fun, Estelle." I groaned, nudging her backwards.

"I didn't make you go." she retorted once we were back into the hallway and on our course again. She glanced at the clock on the wall. "We spent about twenty minutes down there. Lunch is halfway over." Estelle lifted her palm to her nose. "Do we smell of chlorine?"

"Can't tell." I contemplated what we had just witnessed. "He seems like a good swimmer, doesn't he?"

Estelle smiled. "You were _so_ looking at his chest. Are you developing Stockholm syndrome?"

I ignored her first remark and I shook my head helplessly. "I have _no_ idea what to expect from that man any more. Nor do I have any notion as to what I'm getting this afternoon."

Estelle bowed low. "Then walk forward, mademoiselle. Walk into your destiny." she said, putting on an eerie voice.

"Shut up." I retorted playfully. "Put your sandwich into that mouth and keep it there."

* * *

_Oh, woe is me, _I thought numbly in my chair. It was five minutes past three and I had forty-five minutes alone with the Phantom. Joy. _Is his hair a little wet?_ I mused absently. "What am I learning this time, sir?" I inquired politely.

He turned around from wiping the blackboard and looked at me, seemingly thinking carefully about something. The Phantom put down the duster and walked to his bag. "Dana, what you are about to see may frighten you, but it's for your own good." he said slowly and calmly. He looked into the bag intently for a moment and then grasped something. Warningly he said, "Dana, _do not scream_."

"Wha-?!" I was thoroughly confused, watching him remove the item from his bag. And then I did scream.

It wasn't an 'Aw man, why did I have to wake up and spoil that dream?' scream. It wasn't an 'Anthony Warlow is singing at the shopping centre and signing autographs!' scream. It was an 'A crazed man is holding a Punjab lasso and he's going to use it on ME!" scream.

Yes, definitely a scream that went into that category.

The Phantom cringed. "Dana, stop screaming! I am not going to hurt one of my students!"

"But you're holding a Punjab and I'm the only one here!" I babbled after a long wail. Then I resumed shrieking again.

He came forward, dropping the rope at his desk and put a hand over my mouth. My eyes widened as I got very close to his face. A unique experience, to be sure. I nearly passed out from the suddenness and intensity of his look.

"Dana." he said again. "I am not going to use it on you. You're in detention because you showed no self-control."

I nodded hastily, remembering how I had leapt up and snatched the note from the teacher's hands. The Phantom released the hand on my mouth. "Right... So it's self-control this time?" I queried cautiously.

"Yes." the Phantom confirmed. He went back to retrieve his lasso. "Now, I'm planning to just...restrict you to your chair for a while. Last time you were in detention, you sat still and silently for three quarters of an hour. I want to see if you can do that again, only you will have no music to help you achieve that."

"Self-control. Okay..." I was very much afraid of what he was about to do, but I didn't want to run away.

A minute later, I was sitting in my little plastic chair with my arms straight at my sides. There was a thick strand of rope across my upper arms and my torso. I wasn't freaking out, not just _yet. _Then I remembered what this rope had last been secured around, and that was Josephine Marrick's neck. _Then_ I panicked. _Oh my god, oh my god. This guy's nuts..._

"Not claustrophobic, are you, Dana?" he asked me quietly.

"No, sir. Not much." I said brusquely, gulping. Well, I had never really liked Josephine anyway... I breathed slowly. Must be calm. I had to be calm.

_Curse my luck, _I thought bitterly. I just could _not_ figure out this Phantom. A week ago he was the foreboding Phantom striding around and contentedly making jokes out of me, then he showed me the Music of the Night, and a day later he had erased a child from the world... And now what?

_Most Phantoms have severe mood-swings, Dana, _a voice told me from the back of my head. _It's a part of them, like the temper or their passion for music._

_Bugger, _I thought to myself in response.

"Are you having trouble breathing?" the teacher inquired.

"I'm fine. Fine, sir."

"You look like you're about to drown in air, your eyes are moving to look at the clock every few seconds, and you're wondering how much time you have left." he stated. And it was indeed true.

"I hate it." I admitted. "I really, _really_ hate it."

"As much as you hate it and may hate me for doing it, you're staying in there." Having said that, he folded his arms and leaned against his table.

_Oh yes sir, you're _really_ helping me, _I thought sarcastically. _Don't mind if I do; would you prefer me to chuck the chalk duster at your head as a sign of my hatred or just yell at you?_ I stopped abruptly. No, I didn't really hate him. Was Estelle right, and was I developing Stockholm syndrome? _Great. Sympathy with my captor, just what I need. But I don't hate him. Got to stop telling yourself stupid stuff, Dana..._

I looked intently at him, hoping for a shred of mercy and that he would forgive me for everything that had happened yesterday and release me. A centimetre of more space and it would be tolerable. The Phantom stared back at me and for some odd reason I had another severe hit of déjà-vu. _He isn't going to kiss me, is he? If this is a repeat of the dream, I'd rather experience it _not_ lassoed to a chair..._ He walked towards me and bent down to my level, only to shift the Punjab lasso a tiny bit so that the knot wasn't at my elbow.

I began to sway from left to right, strangely feeling dizzy. _Well, this is a heck of a lot different from last time I was in detention... He's close, isn't he? Smells of chlorine..._ And then I _think..._ I fainted. I'm not sure. You don't know if you've fainted or not if you haven't fainted yet, do you? And once you _have_ fainted, everyone knows except you.

Of course, I wasn't thinking about this at that time. I was still sane enough to not bend my brain with things of that sort.

Or was I?

**Yes, my insanity has temporarily leaked into our character. Sorry about that.**

**Ciao; cheesecake will devour your soul in a playful manner; perhaps even a chocolate mud cake...**

**DarkFlameOfTheMonkey (Gee, my name is so long...)**


	9. She Who Has Fainted & Still Has Homework

**A/N: This is where I inform with some disappointment that Jamster has pulled out of writing this fanfiction due to an increase in high school homework and several tests to study for.**

**But I'm still here, and the story will continue! That's the good thing. Right...?**

**Very sorry for not updating for ages. Again. Just a thank you here for all of the readers that have been very patient with this so far and to all of the reviwers!**

**Disclaimer: I think whoever owns Phantom of the Opera is doing an okay job of it...**

She Who Has Just Fainted and Still Has Homework to Do

Fainting is...a strange thing. I'm trying to describe it here for future reference purposes, but I honestly have to say that I can't remember a single detail.

Moving on, then...

"Come on... Pull yourself together, Dana!" My mother had been nudging at my shoulder when I came to. I was lying on something hard, but much more comfortable than the position I had been in previously.

_OH... _That was the first thing I had thought. _Detention... Punjab lasso. Then... a black thingy._ I turned my head slowly to the right, my neck and shoulders stiff. I realised then that I was spread on top of the teacher's desk. And there he was, the Phantom himself, holding my wrist and still in a bit of shock at seeing me move.

I swallowed, trying to get my lips to open. "Mph-en." I mumbled.

Mum sprang up from her chair, grabbing my other arm. "Dana, you're awake!"

"That's obvious, Mum." I said a little louder. I was blinking at the lights in the classroom, not quite putting all of the fragments together yet.

The Phantom left his chair as well and pushed my back until I was in a sitting position. "Dana, what is twenty-eight divided by four?"

"Whad-er?" I rubbed my eyes, then realised that the teacher had asked me a question. "Uh, seven, I think. Sir."

He nodded. "And what about fourteen to the power of five?"

I frowned. "Something...big-ish. Can I have a calculator, sir?"

"Close enough, Dana." the teacher said with a grin. He was still grasping my wrist very tightly. "Are you able to walk?"

"Maybe..." I replied slowly. The painted walls looked like they were about to spring forward and punch me in the jaw. I swung my legs off of the desk smoothly, but almost immediately fell forward onto my face. I would have met with the floor and had a nice conversation with it if my mother and the Phantom hadn't been holding my hands.

Yeah. The Phantom was holding my hand. Strange thing to do after he just tied me up with a Punjab...

"You can let go now. I'm okay." I murmured to them. I stopped gripping their hands and stepped forward. I was slowly regaining a better sense of balance, and the walls didn't seem to be moving any more. I walked around the classroom for good measure, hearing the teacher speak to my mum.

"I'm very sorry about this... If there's anything that I can do-"

"No, no, it's perfectly fine. Dana will be alright. You don't have anything to worry about."

I was relieved to hear this as I passed the book cupboards at the back of the room. Let's face it; it _would_ be pretty awkward if Mum sued my own high school teacher for tying me up with a lasso and making me faint. Who knew why I had passed out anyway? It probably wasn't his fault. It could have been anything from the smell of the chlorine on his skin or the lack of air I was getting... Hang on, that _would _make it his fault. But most likely, Mum didn't know that.

Oh well. There wasn't anything I could do.

I completed my walk and came back to the pair of adults, standing next to Mum. "Sir, what's for homework?" I asked politely.

He was taken by surprise, but rapidly recovered. Typical Phantom, really. They can't be seen looking pathetic. "Well, none that is needed immediately. I should remind you that you have an assignment due in two weeks, though." He peered down at me from the eyeholes of his black mask. "Have in mind what you are writing about?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. It will be ready." _Bugger,_ I thought absently. _An assignment._

The Phantom gave another of his miniscule smiles. "That's good to hear. If you don't feel well..."

"I'll be in school tomorrow, sir." I assured. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It read three fifty-eight. "I've only been out just long enough for detention to end, sir. It wasn't that long; I should be fit for school tomorrow morning." I said with a mildly-forced smile.

"See you tomorrow then." And then he closed the door.

Mum took my arm and we walked along the hallways and out into the car park. "You're feeling okay?" she asked me.

"Fine, Mum." I answered. My eyes began to stare off into the sky; I was wondering about how I was going to write my Case Studies assignment. I should get started today...

We were halfway home when I heard Mum mutter something. I whipped my head to look at her.

"What?" I queried.

"What, what?" she answered back, without taking her eyes off the road.

"You said something. Something like... 'cute-lookin' one'."

She went red, her fingers gripping the steering wheel harder. "I didn't say that."

I grinned. "You're in 'apple' mode. Head towards the 'tomato' range and you're _guilty._" I hissed the last word, laughing as she pursed her lips together.

"I'm driving." she countered. "Can't talk."

"Apples are nice." I mused. "They're good in fruit salad. Tomatoes are even better." I continued. "Tomatoes are great in Greek salads. A nice accompaniment to rocket leaves, too. But I love tomatoes because they're so colourful. Green is boring, _everything_ is green. Red is good. Lipstick is good as red. Lipstick and _rouge_..."

_"Stop talking about salad!" _Mum shrieked, her shoulders shooting up towards her ears. "And you're too young for make-up, Dana." she added firmly. "Just pinch your cheeks if you want some blush..." She stopped short, focusing again on the car in front of ours.

I kept my gaze on her, knowing that she would crack soon. I just had to keep watching her. Like a bird of prey. Like Mr Gerik.

Mum slumped. "He's got a cute bum, okay?" she mumbled. "And some lovely calves...and thighs..."

I burst out laughing, rolling from side to side in the car seat. "You sound as if you're describing a chicken!"

"Chickens don't have calves." she retorted. "All they have are those skinny little legs." Mum struggled not to giggle as well while she mulled over what she had said.

I stared in disbelief at her. "That's- That's just pathetic!" I breathed. "'All they have are those skinny little legs?' What the? You're so much better than that, Mum!"

"I know!" she wailed. "I'm losing my touch." She said this mournfully, but she was smiling.

"It's a dangerous game." I warned her quietly. "Everyone falls in love with a Phantom."

She nodded in agreement. "He's an easy one to fall for, though. But I've got my Phantom already, no need for another one."

I sat back into the depths of the seat. This was _by far _the funniest conversation I had shared with Mum in a long time.

* * *

_The original Christine Daae was Swedish-born, spending most of the years of her youth singing at fairs with her father playing the violin. She and her father later made their way to Paris with the help of Professor Valerius. When Christine's father died she was taken into the care of Madame Valerius, living in Paris and working in the Palais de Garnier._

I went on to describe her rise to Prima Donna status in the opera house, eventually making my way to her connections with the Angel of Music or the Phantom, and after that to the love triangle between Vicomte de Chagny and Erik. I decided that I had too little information, so I went through all of Mum's magazines and my old clippings for any trace of a younger Christine. In the media a few years ago, there had been many stories of the latest 'Christine' figure. Her true name was Emmy Rossum; quite young, proclaimed by some magazines 'a great young actor', and brunette. She seemed to have more resources than my first attempt, so I went with her instead.

Many hours of editing later, I had one and a half typed pages. I decided that I would edit it again a few days later, and then I would handwrite it out on paper.

For the moment, I took Mum's advice. I leapt onto my bed and fell asleep.

* * *

When I walked into the classroom the next morning, Wednesday, there was a cluster of pupils in the back corner. Estelle beckoned to me from her place on the edge of the gathering.

I dropped my bag next to my table and went to her. There were two girls in the centre of the circle, excitedly narrating something.

"What's up here?" I whispered to Estelle.

"You know how we have all of those exercise books? We're going to put one of them to use." Estelle answered. "We're going to have to write a history of our sport house. You're in Diamond, remember? Beth and Amy got wind early. Ingénues live for gossip, after all." she said with a sigh. And that was all she was going to say. She hushed me, saying that more information was on its way from the pair of girls.

"When the history assignment comes," one of them was saying, "so does the most important sporting event of the year at St Gerik's!"

And just as they were going to pop it out, we heard the trapdoor under the teacher's desk rattle.

Everyone in the room became paralysed for an instant, then leapt towards their chairs. _What, no one wants to hear about how I fainted yesterday?_ my mind echoed numbly. _And since when did the Phantom fumble with a trapdoor?_

He rose up from behind the desk, placing his papers onto it with an air of somewhat grace and ease. It all looked _natural._

"Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may have heard from older students the news of an upcoming event in the school." He remained standing, talking with a louder voice than usual. He looked as if he was..._happier?_ No, not so much as happy as sort of _aroused with a tiny bit of excitement._ You didn't see a Phantom excited very often, thus, we all kept quiet.

"So," he went on, "this morning we shall completely ignore the beginning of our Case Studies unit that is supposed to prepare you for writing your assignment, and get on with having your chosen sports sorted out."

A tremor of barely-contained whispers rippled among the students. Most knew what was happening already, and couldn't resist revealing it to their friends. In addition, we weren't doing Case Studies that morning!

"I can see that the majority of you know, and you are correct." the teacher said calmly. "The tournament against Crawford High School is in three weeks!" His eyes glimmered all of a sudden. "And you will need all of those three weeks to train, trust me."

Estelle discreetly threw me a note amidst all of the chatter that suddenly erupted. _'Wonder who's training the swimming team, eh?' _And underneath that, a scribble of a smiling face. I threw it back across the aisle with a wide grin.

The Phantom raised his hands for the class to quieten. "You will choose your sports today and training for those sports will commence on Friday, replacing your normal sports lesson. Since this is _not yet the last day of the week_," he looked pointedly at a group of students in the centre of the room, "I don't want to see any of you using your pencil cases as cricket bats, understood?"

The teacher turned and began writing on the chalkboard a list of the sporting choices. "A few teams of each sport will be formed in each year, and you will be playing against your own year group in Crawford High School. You may be expected to train before and after school and during your lunchtime." He finished writing and stepped back. Quite a far way back.

He nodded at us and we rushed to the board. Names were scribbled in messy columns, which the Phantom copied down onto a sheet of paper that he would take to the teachers' office later.

"With the sport tournament comes the inevitable essay task on the histories of your sport house." he said once he had sat down. At the mention of this everyone groaned with substantial volume. The teacher held up his palms. "It's not one I decided to make compulsory." he stated defensively. "It is rather short, and you should be able to finish it just by asking the elder students. You can document as much detail as is comfortable for you. I want it in your exercise books, and just because I'm nice, it's not due until a week after your Case Studies assignment." He smiled wryly.

"Now, let's move on to Case Studies. To where it all began, in the Palais de Garnier... Get your textbooks out, children."

_Darn, _I thought as I opened my bag in search for the book. _'We shall completely ignore the beginning of our Case Studies unit?'_ _Liar..._

* * *

Estelle, who was also in the Diamond house, was sitting next to me at recess. The both of us were sitting cross-legged at the feet of some kindly senior students, resplendent in their glittering white dresses. I scribbled into my exercise book their words.

"You know, I noticed a trend. All of our netball teams that manage to beat Crawford are almost all made up of Diamond girls."

Estelle pumped her fist and hissed in pleasure. "You obviously chose netball, didn't you?" I nudged her with a grin.

The senior Ingénues went on. "The tournament is just something we don't _have _to be Phantoms and Ingénues in. No singing, no capes and swords... It's just sport and fun and people! It's not _all_ about the houses either, so that's a relief."

"Netball is by far the Diamond house's strength, though. We just stink at aquatics and athletics, that's the Sapphires' department. The Emerald house is the best at running and archery, I personally think. The Rubies are... What are they good at?"

"I can't remember. All I know for sure is that our Diamond volleyball team is hopeless. Just hope they have some other houses in there."

I almost swore aloud and dropped my pencil.

"You...obviously chose volleyball, didn't you, Dana?"

**One: The sport house names were Jamster's idea. It didn't feel right to scrap it completely, even if you might think it cheesy.**

**Two which maybe should've come before One: I don't know what it's like to faint so I made the entire beginning of the chapter up.**

**Thanks for reading, sorry for the late update, please drop a review!**

**DarkFlameOfTheMonkey now most of APennyForYourThought instead of half... Jamster still has interest in writing the story, she just won't be writing as often.**


	10. Insult to Injury

**A/N: Oh gosh, I'm getting really slack with updating! Very VERY sorry once again. Sorry you had to wait. I started writing this chapter about two weeks ago and had a gigantic attack of writer's block, but last weekend when I was a watching the PotO musical Jamster came to the rescue with the surprise twist for Dana's Mum! I finally edited it today, since there's a teacher strike on so there's no school. Jamster was ready to KILL me if I didn't get Chapter 10 up today. Hope you enjoy; thank you to all the reviewers so far; sorry for the wait!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, but console myself with the fact that most people in the world don't.**

Insult to Injury

Most of the kids in my class were in a panic, a private panic within their minds. The Case Studies assignment was due three days from now, on Monday. It had been two days and a week since we had chosen our sport for the tournament. The tournament itself took place in a fortnight. Two days before that, our history essay was due in. Training in our weekly sport lesson with Madame Giry had also been stopped. We were on our own now.

I was currently standing on the volleyball court with my team. It was lunchtime, so it was noisy and we were surrounded by the chaotic running mass of children with energy to burn. The school teacher organising the volleyball teams was called Sorelli (who kept telling us to "Fuse with the ball's movements, move with the ball... Guide your limbs..."), but we didn't see much of her because she flitted between the teams so often. There were one or two teams for each year, from year three to year twelve. If that's not hectic, I don't know what is.

So Edwin, opting for volleyball instead when he learned there was no fencing, appointed himself temporary team captain of year seven. "Okay... We've got one more Friday lunch to train after this one, then it's the tournament. So... Let's just split up and practise."

"Hoi, the seniors took the second court." an abrupt shout arose. Another group of students in their sport uniforms walked towards us. "We need to practise as well."

Edwin looked around at the rest of us, turning back to the other team and shrugging. "Okay then."

I eyed the opposing team. _Year sevens against year eights? This might get ugly..._ It turned out that I was the only person from the Diamond house that had joined the volleyball team. Everyone else was from the other houses. I'm not so certain about what the senior Ingénues said. Not meaning to massage my ego, but I think I'm pretty okay at volleyball...

The two teams got into their positions on the court, and a leisurely game began.

* * *

"That wasn't a point, was it?"

"It was!"

"Oh, come on..."

I walked up and tapped Edwin on the shoulder. "Okay Mr Swordsman, I'm going to the back. It's too tight at the front."

Edwin shook his head, dislodging his mask a little. "There are plenty of able-bodied, tall people at the back. You're shorter than most of them, but you can jump really high. Remember what Miss Sorelli said, you belong at the front near the net." I could see him bite his cheek before he said, "You can do really well if you stay in front. Benefit of the team and all that."

I ignored his flattery and nodded my head at the cluster of players near the volleyball net. "I can't help anyone if I get trampled every time the ball comes along."

Edwin smiled weakly. "We need a lot of improvement on teamwork, don't we?"

I snorted. "Improvement? It'd be faster if we replaced everyone with perfectionist robots."

"Serving!"

The ball sailed to the right side of the court, where one team member leapt up and tried to push it back over the net. Unfortunately, Edwin and I were standing right behind this person, and that person also failed to meet the ball. We all fell backwards onto the concrete, helpless and tangled like several squids that had been caught in a cyclonic vacuum cleaner.

* * *

"Oiph-gim!" I waved my arms about and struck the bedside table. The contents of the drawer rattled loudly. Arching my back, I sat up and glared at the clock. My school uniform wasn't hanging on the back of the door, so that meant it was Saturday. I rubbed my head and slapped my cheeks. I remembered faintly dreaming about the events of the previous day. The graze on my elbow hurt slightly. I had been forced to run to the school office and get a band-aid, even though I hadn't been in any immediate pain. The flies had buzzed around the open flesh, and creeped everyone out.

It was already ten in the morning, so I got off the mattress and walked, eyes still half-closed, to the bathroom and then to the kitchen.

"And that would be...ten sixteen ante meridian." my mother said articulately. "An amazing improvement of two minutes!" Mum proclaimed.

I opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of tomato sauce. "Stop looking at the clock and hand over the toast before I squirt ye to the sky."

"You'll have to kill me first." she vowed in a low voice. "I just got these done!"

I tossed the sauce back into the fridge and took the bag of bread. "Are we doing anything today?"

Mum bit noisily into her toast. "Charles is coming over."

I leaned on the kitchen bench, waiting for the toaster to finish its job. "Obviously." I commented. _What a boring life it must be for a toaster,_ I mused. _Mum likes it light; I like a big brown patch on each side. There's nothing else. No variety..._

The slices of toast were pushed up from the toaster, sending me jumping away from the kitchen bench with my pulse racing. Mum laughed loudly. I took my toast and sat down with her at the kitchen table. "Mum, say 'toast' five times." I said abruptly, an idea forming in my brain.

She cocked her eyebrows. "Why, precisely?"

"I'm testing you." I answered breezily.

Mum tilted her mouth suspiciously. "Fine then. Toast, toast, toast, toast, toast."

I nodded, satisfied with her compliance. "Say 'toast' ten times."

"What? Why?" She nearly spit out the contents of her mouth at my request.

"Just do it!" I waved the butter knife at her threateningly, but with a dazzling smile.

My mother sighed, rolling her eyes. She said what I asked of her in a long string and looked expectantly at me. I swallowed my mouthful of bread, then told her to say the word 'toast' another fifteen times.

She groaned. "You're not going to make me say it _twenty _times next, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, just this last bit and then the final decider of your intelligence."

"Toast, toast, toastie, multiplied by five." she muttered impatiently. "There. Now what?"

I frowned at the way she skimped the task, but continued while the word 'toast' was still fresh in her mind. "Now, the crux of the matter. 'What do you put into a toaster?'" I burbled hastily.

"Bread." she answered shortly, without looking up at me.

"Argh!" I cried.

Mum blinked lazily, chewing slowly on her breakfast. "Did I pass?"

I hunched my shoulders, staring sulkily at the small plate of toast in front of me. "Yes."

Mum nodded, content with herself for spoiling my plan. "So Dana, who told you that wonderful trick?"

"What makes you think I got it off someone? Don't you consider me smart enough to come up with that on my own?" I asked her, feigning offence.

"Who told you that?" she repeated.

I sank down and concentrated on my breakfast again, dejectedly picking up the second slice and starting to eat it. "Estelle, from school."

"Ah."

"So, what else are we doing other than Charles coming over?" I asked, hoping to lead her thoughts away from the subject of my defeat. It was a Saturday morning ritual that I interrogated her without mercy. Well, it's a ritual for me. For Mum, it's torture.

"I guess Charles would know what to do, once he's here." Mum replied absently, looking out the kitchen window at the black road and assortment of neighbours' cars. The street was quiet today.

_I suppose I couldn't be more simple than that, _I thought. "That's great then, see you!" I said cheerfully, hopping up from the chair.

"Where are you going?" Mum immediately questioned, a little bewildered that I had somewhere to go so early in the morning.

"To meet the President of the Galaxy." I stated calmly, then laughed.

"You wish." she muttered through half a mouthful of toast.

I gave a smile and bounded upstairs. Flipping through our phone book, I practically jumped the way back down the steps and picked up the cordless phone. After entering Estelle's number and waiting for the duration of a few rings, someone answered.

"Hello?" the voice on the other line answered. The voice sounded slightly British mixed with... Something else, something I didn't know.

"Hello, I was wondering if Estelle was there." I could hear the hesitation and uncertainty in my own voice and I wondered if the woman could hear it too.

"She's out today. Would you like to leave a message for her?" the woman asked.

"No thank you. Thanks. Goodbye, ma'am..." I stammered out wearily. I wondered if she understood my last sentences. I didn't really get it myself.

"Who'd you call?" Mum yelled from the kitchen. I could hear the water pounding in the kitchen sink. She must have finished eating.

"Friend." I called back, hoping she would leave it there.

"What kind of friend?" Mum inquired, starting to get curious.

_Why is today the day that she gets all mum-like and bombards me with questions? _I asked myself. "Wrong number, actually!"

The doorbell began to play 'Yankee Doodle'.

_Cliché, yes, but 'saved by the bell!'_ I took long strides to the door, happily. I was usually never this happy to see Charles. He was definitely a nice man, but his visits had not yet made me think of rainbows and lollipops.

He stood there leaning against the wall next to the door, wearing his white half-mask and a dark cape that swayed at his ankles.

"Morning sunshine!" he greeted me brightly. "Where's your Mum?" he asked.

"Eating brunch in kitchen," I replied, flashing him a grin. I retreated back into the house to let him in.

He stepped inside and took off his cape, but didn't leave it hanging on the doorknob like he normally did. Charles stood in the hallway, holding onto it in his fist.

"Hi darling." Mum poked her head into the corridor and smiled at us.

"Good morning, angel." Charles answered. "Have you finished brunch yet? If you have, I was thinking we could head over to Cafe Maria's" to talk." he suggested.

"Talk about what?" she asked breezily.

Charles winked at her, tipping his black hat down lower on his forehead. "You'll see..."

Mum had gone back into the kitchen, where she picked up a tea towel and resumed wiping the table. "What about Dana?"

Charles turned to face me. "Do you want to come along or stay at home?" That was what Mum heard, but the movements of his mouth looked like, "All I can spare from my wallet is a dollar and twenty cents. More later."

I took a while to interpret his mouthing, but I understood and nodded. "I've got an assignment due in two days that I have to work on. You can go by yourselves." I told my mother. I was quite pleased with my acting and held out my palm, in which my mother's boyfriend placed two coins.

"You're sure, Dana?" Mum asked without looking up from cleaning the table. "Alright, just let me get changed."

Charles smiled, walking into the kitchen to take the tea towel from her and putting it away. "Meet you outside, then. We'll bring home a box of ice cream from the cafe for Dana. Is that okay, sweetheart?"

I gave a quick smile. "That'd be great. Thanks!" We watched my mother run up the stairs and into her room. "Nice ventriloquism today." I mumbled to Charles once I heard the door close.

"Thank you." he answered graciously. "Although you covered it up a little too loudly to sound natural."

I shrugged airily. "She doesn't suspect. I do what works. Have fun, then." I trudged upstairs, meeting Mum as she came out of her bedroom and waving her goodbye.

I went into my own and sat at my computer, systematically searching my brain for the things they could possible be talking about.

I could hear the phone ring from its place downstairs. I saved the assignment I had been editing on the computer for two hours, then hurried down the staircase to answer the call.

"Hello?" I said breathlessly.

"You'll never guess who I saw at the cinema today." Estelle's voice told me. I could hear that she was excited.

"Oh no, I'll never ever be able to guess who would be so important that you would call me to talk about." I answered sarcastically. "Let's see... Is it Anthony Warlow?"

Estelle laughed loudly. "Not quite. I'll give you three shots at it."

"Roy Weissensteiner?!" I asked innocently. I knew full well who it could be, but I wanted to drive Estelle mad before we came to the point.

"One more..." she warned.

"Aw, come on. If it's not Roy Weissensteiner..." I pulled the phone closer to my mouth. "A man named Gerik?"

"The name frightens all!" Estelle whispered ominously, bursting into cackles as soon as she had finished. "I'm serious. Mr Gerik inside the cinema watching Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Gave me a huge shock, it did."

"You saw the fourth Indiana Jones movie that everyone's been waiting years for?!" I screamed into the cordless phone. "And you didn't take me? How could you, Estelle?"

"For your information, very easily." she informed me calmly.

"I did the toast thing on Mum, by the way." I told her.

"Did it work?"

"No."

"Told you it wouldn't."

"Are you saying my mother's too smart for me?"

"Do you want to know about our year seven teacher sitting in semi-darkness while an ancient Harrison Ford runs across the screen, or do you not?"

I sat down onto the living room sofa, spreading myself out. "Unleash the cat."

"As you wish..."

**And...I'll leave it there. Really, you don't want to read about two girls talking on the phone.**

**Notes:**

**Anthony Warlow and Roy Weissensteiner are the actors/singers playing the role of the Phantom in the Australian musical, along with Simon Pryce.**

**The 'toast' brain trick credited to a friend from school. Try it. If you say, "toast," to the question, your brain is a little slow. If you say, "bread," congratulations!**

**Twist with Charles and Dana's mother credited to Jamster!**

**I'd like to take this space to curse all of those people that are watching_ Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull_ when it opened in Australia today, without ME watching it with them! My mum insists that we've spent too much money on Phantom of the Opera tickets...**


	11. She Who Sees and Hears

**A/N: Yesss! An update within three days! Woot for me! The reason I had so much trouble with the last chapter was because I was saving up all the drama for the next handful of chappies! I hope you enjoy it, please leave a review if you deem it worthy of your time. We're always looking for constructive critique!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Phantom of the Opera_, nor do I own the _Jekyll and Hyde_ lyrics that I randomly put in here... It sort of fit the situation.**

She Who Sees and Hears

"He wrote her a song. And a poem! He got on his knee. He'd paid the cafe to remain closed for the morning. _And_ he paid the bill!"

"Sweet guy." Estelle agreed. "But how do you feel about all of this? Your mother's getting remarried. You're going to have a stepfather."

I stretched my legs out on top of the bed. My arm was beginning to ache from pressing the phone to my ear. "To be honest, I'm more comfortable with Charles as Mum's boyfriend, but I feel fine. It's not going to be a repeat of Cinderella or Snow White, I know. It's just going to be a bit different." I told her.

"When's the wedding?" Estelle asked curiously.

"No idea. They plan on adjusting slowly, for me, I'm guessing. Charles practically lives here on the weekends anyway."

"Won't it be weird?"

"Obviously, yes."

"And awkward?"

"Yup."

"Have fun, Dana." And then she hung up.

I pressed the button to hang up with my thumb and threw the cordless phone onto my desk. _Pessimistic little girl, _I thought absent-mindedly.

It was about six in the evening, Mum had come home with the news, Charles had left, and twenty minutes of conversation with Estelle earlier in the day had yielded little about our teacher's doings. In Estelle's own words, all she had seen was, "He walked in, sat down, and when it was all over he walked out. Simple as that. Couldn't even manage to follow him."

Not much of a cat to let out of the bag, is it? She could have tried to explain it all in more detail, but her mother had called her to help with laundry before she could. Perhaps Mr Gerik just liked a good movie. Maybe he enjoys Indiana Jones and had been waiting for the fourth film just like everyone else. Or maybe he was just bored on a Saturday. Neither I nor Estelle knows.

* * *

Life has its way of hiding in a hole for a while and then jumping out to scream in your face without warning.

Life is _mean._

Our two assignments had been handed in to the teacher on their dates. And now, we were at the mercy –or lack thereof- of Crawford High School students.

Well, that's what one of my team members said. I disagree.

The years of students above us and below were packed into buses and driven to either Crawford High School or various public sporting grounds. Lucky year seven was left at school. Estelle was on the other side of the school on the netball courts. Somewhere below my feet was a gigantic swimming pool, and the swimming team being drilled by Mr Gerik. Estelle has the strangest sort of intuition, and it happens to be correct most of the time.

My volleyball team was being refereed for the whole day by a teacher from Crawford High. Miss Sorelli was gone, somewhere with the eight year old children. We looked the Crawford team over, calculating our chances.

"Dana! Hey!"

I frowned slightly. There was a girl on the Crawford team, suddenly waving and jumping. Her plaited hair sprang about her head, and she was calling my name. I started as I recognised her.

"Alice! What are you doing here?" I called, doing my best to get a smile onto my face. It was being extremely reluctant.

The girl ducked under the volleyball net and ran straight towards me. The rest of my team looked at her strangely, then directed their gazes to me.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Dana?" Alice giggled.

My frown reappeared. "Like you are jumping up and down on an invisible trampoline. You've obviously had sugar."

She laughed lightly and swung an arm across my shoulders. "Silly Dana. You're not introducing me?"

_Almighty Leroux, help me,_ I silently groaned. _Kill me. Kill _HER. _Either way's good!_ Aloud I said, "People, person clinging to my neck and breaking my back. Person, meet the people _not_ causing me extreme pain."

"Hello!" Alice shrieked gaily. "I'll see you later, right?" With a wave, she jogged back to her team, where they were starting to spread across their side of the court.

Edwin turned to me with a confused look on his face. "Who was that and who created her?" I guessed that was his polite way of saying, "What kind of mutant is she?!"

"Disturbed?" I asked him unnecessarily. "Alice does that. She's a classmate from Chaney Public School. I advise you to caution yourselves." I had suddenly found a new reason to make sure that ball caused as much grief to the opposition as possible.

"We're doomed." one of the girls from the team said. She had been rambling about how we would die on the court for the last twenty minutes. I decided it was time to boost the morale.

I picked up our volleyball and tossed it around with my hands. "I don't think that's going to happen. We haven't even started one game, and you're already planning your funeral. That girl isn't a close friend of mine."

Edwin allowed a grin to come to his features. "Then let us begin the massacre."

"You two are so violent! I hate to think what would have happened if those fencing swords had been sharper."

I smiled at the memory. "Where was I?" I said. "Oh yeah... Let's kill them!"

"May Gaston Leroux protect them." Edwin added.

"Or not!" We all laughed and got into our positions.

We were the first to score a point. I should get a job as a motivational speaker.

* * *

Everyone had been playing for an hour. We were being given fifteen minutes for recess before we had to get back to our teams and start another game with a different team.

I snatched up my water bottle and started sprinting towards the St Gerik's netball courts, although my skin was burning and my lungs pleaded for a rest. But Alice Leonard can make people do the most extreme things to get away from her. Aside from thoughts of escape, I wanted to see Estelle.

My weariness got the better of me eventually and I had to stop under the shade of a tree in the seniors' quadrangle, which was now empty. Every pupil over the age of eight had participated in the sport tournament between St Gerik's and Crawford High. I didn't even notice the woman until she was right behind me.

"I'm sorry, but I'm a little lost." a soft voice began.

I whipped my head up to look at her. I immediately absorbed into my brain the way she looked. She was wearing a tan overcoat, large sunglasses with a black frame and a long scarf wrapped several times around her neck and over her head. The lady had short blonde hair that looked like shredded metal and was holding a black handbag tightly to her thin body.

"Hello." I managed to rasp out of my mouth.

A smile flickered against her lips before she spoke again. "Would you please give me directions to the administration office of the school? I found the school fine, but now I'm completely clueless." She looked so helpless standing there, and there was something in her tone of voice that wouldn't let me refuse even if I had thought about it. It was only good manners, after all.

"Oh, um... It's behind the school library, which is the big blue chunk of building that's on the end of the hallway next to the junior quadrangle." I realised how confusing my description sounded. "I'll just show you. That would be easier..."

The woman hastily brought up her hands. "No, no. I'll be just fine now. Thank you _very _much, young miss. I can't thank you enough for your help. I'll be going now."

I watched her walk away, noticing how jerky her movements were. She struck me as someone who was anxious...harassed...looking for help...

_Or looking for someone,_ I thought.

Estelle could wait. She would even scold me for not bringing her information! I made my decision to tail the skinny woman as she tried to find the school office. Waiting until she had disappeared from sight, I stepped out from underneath the tree. Should I cut her off with a shortcut or remain behind her?

I looked at the door that led into the network of school corridors. It was open. I only hoped that there was no one inside to hear me as I sprinted along the vinyl floors.

"_The frightened princess... Doesn't know what to do!"_ I hummed a song softly as I found my way to the school library. But I didn't walk into it, instead turning left and going out into the quad. I looked quickly around the vast, concrete area. There was no one present except me.

Tiptoeing out from the shadows of the buildings, I headed in the direction of the office. I had no idea what the woman was searching for in there, but I intended to find the answer.

"_Will the ghosts go away?"_ I continued. I abruptly cursed my foolishness. If I needed to hum and sing to relieve nervousness, I had better do it in my head.

My quarry was at the door of the office. She had taken off her sunglasses, and I could see her eyes were red and surrounded by dark rings. She hadn't been sleeping for a while. I watched her heave in a breath, then twist the doorknob. The woman disappeared inside the building, and I could do no more without the possibility of getting caught.

There was silence for a minute as I pressed myself against the wall nearest to the entrance back into the corridor. Then came some muffled sentences, obviously the lady. I threw myself back, terribly startled, as a thunderous noise erupted from the office building. In doing so, I thumped the back of my head into the brick wall at point blank.

Above my own swearing and hissing, I heard a shout. A shouted name...

"_CHRISTINE!"_

I recognised the name, as well as the voice. What was a Christine doing in there?! And what on Earth was the assistant principal and my class teacher doing in the staff room? He should have been with the aquatics team. Or maybe my information was incorrect... You can never be certain about high school gossips, least of all when there are teenage Ingénues involved. I returned my concentration to the happenings inside the building.

Another noise came from the office, softer in volume this time and more sustained. It struck me all of a sudden. The school office had a small pipe organ in the staffroom. The ear-splitting sounds were chords from the instrument! But they weren't musical in the slightest; I could tell that much and I've got no musical knowledge whatsoever. They sounded as if they were accidental, like someone pressing their outspread hand onto the keys. The way a child does onto a piano or keyboard. Like a young child piano-bashing...

I sucked in a hurried breath. _No one_ pipe organ-bashes. It simply doesn't happen! The organ was rarely touched by the school staff anyway. They all knew how to properly treat a musical instrument. There was no one who would bash the keys... No one at all.

I could hear crying and footsteps. There was every chance that the woman was coming back out, so I retreated into the corridor. With a glance at my watch, I knew I didn't have much longer until I had to return to the volleyball tournament. There were only five minutes left of the break.

"_Will she will them to stay?"_ I sang brokenly.

Once again running, I completed the last leg of my journey to the netball courts. I must have broken the land speed record for that!

"_Either way there's no way to win..."_

* * *

"Whad 'ap-pinned choo you, Dana?"

I raised my eyebrows. "What happened to _you,_ Estelle?!" My friend was sitting on a bench, holding a white and red tissue to her face. They don't make white tissues with red splotches on them.

"Ne'ball choo der face." she explained.

I winced. "Yowch. Must have been a hard throw for that."

Estelle shrugged in reply. "Won der game, doh."

I remembered what I had meant to tell her. "There's a woman in the school. She asked me for directions, and I followed her, and then all of a sudden Mr Gerik is totally mistreating the school organ!"

"Dana." Estelle said through her tissue. "Yer making no sense."

I breathed deeply and retold the story in more detail. Estelle scowled through the whole recount.

She took the tissue away from her nose when I had finished. Her nosebleed seemed to have stopped. "But none of the Christines are blonde _and _thin!" she cried. "There's skinny and brunette, blonde and curvy... Maybe brown-haired and shapely too, but that doesn't help us!"

I shook my head breathlessly. "I don't know what's going on, but it's definitely something if it can shock our teacher enough to fall onto the pipe organ."

"Maybe it wasn't him. I've seen him take the swimming team down to the pool; he was probably training them. He should be down there right now."

"He could have gotten another teacher to do it for him." I countered.

"You're sure it was a Christine?" Estelle pressed.

"I know what I heard. Something happened in there." In truth, I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined it all. It seemed almost impossible... A real, living Christine!

The siren sounded for the end of recess, but to me it felt like it had been an hour since it began.

"You're going to have to run pretty fast to get back." Estelle stated to me.

I nodded grimly. This new mystery would have to wait for another time.

**I know there hasn't been many appearances of the Phantom in the latest chapters, but I promise to you all that the one of the first things that come up in Chapter Eleven is a segment written in third person that will either explain the happenings of this chapter or confuse you even further.**

**I bid you good day now, and should probably get off the computer since I've been on here all morning. Between brekkie to 2:40 pm!**

**DarkFlame**

**Please R&R!**


	12. Inescapable Fear

**A/N: It seems that I am most productive on a Sunday... Hope you enjoy this chapter; leave a review if you need to! Still looking for some constructive criticism.**

**Disclaimer: Let's look at this logically. I'm in my early teens and I'm also broke, after I paid for _The Phantom of the Opera_ tickets with my own money. I don't even have five cents to my name! I'd have to have at least five cents before I won _The Phantom of the Opera_, yeah?**

Inescapable Fear

_You can walk away at any time, _she thought to herself yet again.

She took off her sunglasses, the colours that suddenly brightened causing her to flinch.

_You can turn around and walk away._

She drew a shuddering breath and resignedly watched her long, pale fingers curl around the silver doorknob.

_You don't have to do this now._

Gathering her coat closer to her body, she stepped inside. The blue carpet was clean and firm underneath her shoes. The painted walls were decorated by the children's artwork. The potted flowers looked innocent in the corner. They were put there to make the building more inviting. Those flowers didn't deserve her suspicion.

_Too late now, Christine, _she told herself._ Can't go back out._

She didn't dare to mutter. There was a hallway leading to the right, which she followed. Not a sound passed her lips. Now was not the time to speak. She was too afraid.

Christine abruptly froze in the hallway, with a miniscule gasp escaping from her throat, when she heard the sound of the pipe organ. Her lips trembled and her eyelids fluttered closed. He was playing.

She couldn't bring herself to complete her task now, not when she heard the music. His music sounded all too familiar, and yet somehow undoubtedly different... The situation, however, was almost identical.

She ordered her limbs to walk up to the end of the hallway. Just a glimpse of him would let her know if she could do it or not. The door of the room from which the music was coming was almost closed. Christine peered through the crack between the door and doorjamb that remained, about an inch's worth. His back was to her. An attack of déjà-vu struck her. So much had changed between them but life seemed to do the same things to her again and again...

His fingers slowed down, and within seconds the music of the organ had stopped. He turned around to look at the door.

_Does he see me? _she wondered fearfully. With a sigh, she pushed the door forward and stepped through. _Does he even recognise me?_

Christine jumped backward with her hands up at her ears, pressing herself to the wall and dropping her bag as he slammed his hand onto the keys.

"_Christine!"_

She nodded numbly, already crying.

The Phantom blinked. His clothes suddenly felt heavy. He wanted to just close his eyes and sleep. Perhaps wake up and have some tea. He looked warily at the woman standing at the door. Her hair was short and blonde, for some reason. But he recognised the face, although her eyes were pink and strained. Was it some strange hallucination that he was having?

"I need help." she whispered.

His mouth shook itself open. "I beg your pardon?" Her voice hadn't changed, but it was so soft. She was scared.

"I need your help." Christine repeated, bending down slowly to retrieve her bag without looking away from him._ You can always walk away!_

The Phantom cleared his throat. "And why would you be asking for my help? Last I saw you, you were quite content and well-cared for."

The woman cringed. He was talking about Raoul. It would be best not to mention his name now. "I just need some help. Please, monsieur, all I ask is that you _listen_ to me-"

Her former teacher leaned back in surprise at this, his elbow pressing onto the organ. A strident chord resounded again. "And what say you about simply leaving and never seeing me again? That seemed to be what you had in mind the previous time we met." he stated brusquely. "What point is there in you just 'popping in' to see me? There's nothing else I can give you."

Christine seemed to deflate. "I only ask for your help." she muttered weakly.

"Things are not going well with your Vicomte?" the Phantom asked harshly. "You are running into financial difficulty? Or you are expecting a babe soon? You don't look at all the picture of health recommended for carrying a child, you know."

Another tear slipped down her face. _You can always walk away._ "I'll just leave, if you're not comfortable in my company." Christine tried to edge her words with some anger. The result was close to a high-pitched shriek. It was obvious that he wouldn't help her. She'd just have to go somewhere else...

The door closed, and the Phantom slowly registered that she was walking away, for the first time, by herself.

* * *

It came to me during the second half of our third volleyball game. We had rotated and were then playing against a rather hardened team from Crawford High. I recognised none of them as children from my old primary school, and so deemed it in my best interest to just _sit down._

Sitting cross-legged on hard, hot, black asphalt after a heap of running and a volleyball game to follow can do wonders for the mind. I had the beginnings of a solution within five minutes and leapt at it.

There were no Christines that I knew of that were both thin and blonde-haired. The lady I had encountered had short yellow hair that looked like shredded metal. _Shredded metal,_ I had mused. _What kind of person has hair like metal?_

And that's when I realised.

_It's a wig._

It was a wig. I couldn't believe it. It was a wig! I jumped up from my spot on the ground, wandering aimlessly around the perimeter of the court. I wanted to run straight back to Estelle to see what she thought of it, but I couldn't leave the game. I needed to tell someone! But there was no one that would believe me or care.

The idea that the woman's hair was a wig didn't get me anywhere. I needed to identify the face. I needed my mother's magazines.

_For the love of Almighty Leroux, don't let my Mum suddenly get an urge to recycle today, _I prayed.

* * *

"Estelle!" I knew she'd be the first to answer the phone. She would have been hovering anxiously around it, waiting for a call from me. Her curiosity is just too strong for her own good.

"Dana?" she asked, the syllables flying rapidly out of her mouth. "What have you got to tell me?"

I took a large breath. "It's a wig."

Clearly not what she expected. "How do you know that?" Estelle queried slowly.

"It all makes sense now. I managed to recognise the face using some pictures in Mum's magazines and on the internet. The woman's name is Emmy Christine Rossum. I did my Case Studies assignment on her!" I got nearly full marks for it as well...

"How long has she been a registered Christine for?" Estelle shot back at me. "I'm going to cycle to the library, look up some things. I just played netball for the entire day, but what the heck!"

I glanced down at the magazine on my lap, running my eyes down the columns. "Nothing here, but I remember something from another edition." I creased my forehead, trying to recall the information. "Not long. Got her Christine degree when she was in her late teens. Changed her name after that. Why do you need to know this? _All_ the Christines get their degree and add in the name to their own. It doesn't really distinguish them."

"Still, it could help. I'm going to go to the library now." Estelle made to hang up.

"I'll meet you there!" I called into the phone, but I have no idea whether she heard me or not.

* * *

"Feels weird, doesn't it, to be on your very own detective adventure?"

Estelle cracked the bones in her neck. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

I fell into the chair next to Estelle and peered over her shoulder at the computer. "It's kind of fun, in a dangerous way. A big mystery that we have to solve."

"We don't _have_ to solve it. And it's not really dangerous." she retorted, typing into the search engine.

"Feels like that, though. We _are_ dealing with an experienced and lethal Phantom, remember that."

"Yes," Estelle said, "but this Phantom is our schoolteacher, so it's a bit less dangerous than the fantasy you have in your mind."

I frowned in thought. "Have you forgotten that there is one little girl that hasn't been heard from since the Friday of the first week of school? And have you forgotten that there is another little girl who fainted during detention with that man?"

Estelle's shoulders shot up to her ears. "Alright, alright. But we're only going to be in any _remote_ danger _if_ we are caught. Researching isn't a crime." The internet page finished loading. "Here it is. The online history of famous Christines and Ingénues. Which one is she?"

I looked at the computer screen, spotted her picture near the bottom and pointed.

"Hmm." is all that Estelle says. After she finished thinking she pushed her chair back. "Why...?" she mumbled.

"Oh, why did a Christine suddenly walk into our school looking for the office?" I shrug. "That, I have no idea about. Maybe we should just dance into the classroom on Monday and yell, 'Hey, Mr Gerik, sir, we were just wondering if the pretty woman with a Christine degree has anything to do with you, because we've run into a dead end with our sleuthing'?"

Estelle looked hard at me. "That, my friend Dana, would be suicidal."

"Well, why don't we?" I couldn't believe it didn't occur to me before. "It's the only way we can get any more information. He's bound to know! He's the one she was looking for, I know it!"

Estelle shook her head firmly. "To do that would be to pry into his personal life, and reveal to him that you were spying. That's asking for the Punjab lasso. I heard from the other kids what he said on the first day. 'The Punjab is only nice to the littlies.'"

I remembered that as well, shivering slightly. He was still that tall, dark man that demanded fear. "That was a threat for us to do our homework on time." I countered. "And I wasn't spying! I was...following, to make sure she went to the right place."

Sighing, Estelle got out of her chair and left the library computer. "Well it seems that she did, delivered a nice shock to our teacher, and for all we know disappeared from this universe. We can't do any more about this today." She looked down at her arm. "It's a Friday after school, I've been playing netball for six hours, and I _really_ need a shower."

I laughed. Estelle stared blankly at me. That girl has no sense of humour.

But then, in a world like this, humour won't save you from an angry Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

We were in the middle of reading about Erique Claudin and Christine Dubois when one of the student teachers came to the door. I knew from listening to the senior pupils that she was Maria, a kind and efficient teacher. It shouldn't be long until she got a class of her own.

Mr Gerik stopped his task, the stick of white chalk frozen in midair. The Phantom was giving us one of his dramatic explanations, but Claudin and Dubois seemed to be forgotten for the present.

"What is it?" he snapped. He didn't intend to sound mean, but it was apparent from Maria's stance and wheezing breath that something was urgent.

She had both her hands on the doorframe for support. Her legs wobbled beneath her thick, grey skirt, and she was panting. "Sir, a situation needs your attention! In the school hall, monsieur- It's just _shocking!_ I don't know what to do about it-" Maria cried.

The Phantom dropped the chalk onto his desk, the heavy wooden chair scraping against the floor loudly as he stood up. "Stay here, children." is his only, firm command. And then he left with Maria at a hurried jog.

The class sat paralysed for a single moment. That seems to be the only thing we give our teacher, with or without his presence. Just paralysis.

"The school hall, wasn't it?" the masked boy sitting in front of me asked no one in particular.

That sparked the rest of us to move. There was no argument on abandoning our work and doing the exact reverse of what our teacher had just told us.

Nothing like a crisis to break up a lesson of Case Studies on a Monday morning.

**That title was going to be relevant to two events in this chapter but I'll have to stretch it to the next chappie... I've got to stop with the semi-cliffhangers.**

**I'm still here,**

**DarkFlame**


	13. She Who Fears

**A/N: 'Kay, long weekend... Blah di blah...**

**Disclaimer: I once again am obliged to alert the world about my total failure to hold Andrew Lloyd Webber for ransom until someone gives me the rights to the Phantom stage musical. The same goes for everyone else involved.**

She Who Fears

A seventh grade class of thirty kids sprinting to the school hall without a teacher, _surprisingly,_ doesn't look that odd.

We were out of breath and unsure of everything when we arrived. I did not expect to be witnessing an abduction when I got into the hall. Nor did I expect the humongous, ancient school hall to be nearly filled to the last metre by other jostling students.

Estelle prodded my arm hard. I tilted my head back, slowly and painfully. I could feel my chest tighten, as if it knew beforehand what I was going to see. When I did place my focus on what Estelle was frantically pointing at and yelling about, I gave a brief scream as well.

A girl was hanging from the school disco ball, thin rope tied around her hands and to the chain that connected the ball to the ceiling. Her arms were stretched up over her head and next to her ears, and her legs hung limply in the air. It was a long way up from the wooden floorboards, and God knows how long she had been up there! The girl was a senior student, as I could see from her glittering white dress. From my position near the door, I could see her facial expression. I was almost mesmerised by the way her face contorted in pain and fear. The disco ball spun around slowly and so did the girl, her school dress and the tiny mirrors on the ball shining brilliantly.

"Ack, look!" Estelle said loudly into my ear.

I blinked quickly, breaking my concentration. I turned my head to the right to see a boy standing on the light fixtures that were next to the disco ball. His cape hung down towards the floor like a red, velvety stalactite. The skull-like mask was thrown into horrifying detail as he thrust his chest forward and laughed.

"What's happening here?" Edwin pushed his way forward, ending up next to me. "Holy _Webber!_" he shouted abruptly.

"Hey, can you keep the volume down?" I hissed at him. "I've already got Estelle here on the other side of me."

"Well, sorry Dana..." Estelle replied. "But this calls for some good, solid soprano shrieking!"

"This is an Ingénue kidnapping, isn't it?" I said slowly in awe.

"Yeah, but I don't think the kidnapper got permission!" Edwin gestured to the young Phantom swinging on the lights.

Estelle pointed again, her arm becoming parallel to the wall. "There's Mr Gerik!" About ten metres away from our class gathering was our teacher. He had a resolute look set onto his face while one of the other teachers hurriedly reported into his ear.

"This doesn't look good..." I stated.

"You're telling me nothing!" Estelle retorted with a nervous laugh. "Should we go to the teacher or try to stay out of sight?"

I looked at the girl hanging from the disco ball, then at Mr Gerik. "Stay away." I said firmly. "He doesn't need to worry about us as well."

"Then what do we do?" Edwin asked softly, his eyes still glued to the situation above our heads.

I took a large breath and looked up grimly as well. The girl was beginning to call down. "Simple." I said. "We pray."

* * *

"Nadir! Where have you been?" the Phantom thundered, whirling around to meet the man.

"Sorry!" Nadir panted. He held up a modern crossbow and smiled, his white teeth sparkling against his dark skin. "Misplaced this."

The Phantom widened his eyes. "_Nadir!_ This is not one of your ghost-hunting games!"

"Erik, trust me!" Nadir settled the crossbow on top of his shoulder.

"Don't call me Erik, and just _why_ should I trust you with a crossbow?!" the Phantom answered. "This is a student, not an opera ghost!"

"You're the one that says, 'Never negotiate with a Phantom!'" the Persian shouted back. "I promise I won't hurt him. It's foam and rubber-tipped, alright?" He silenced and took aim.

The Phantom sighed huffily and turned to face the disco ball. "Maybe we should start by negotiating this time..." he muttered.

* * *

The noise in the hall was deafening. I could hear the wind rushing past my ears from all the shouting. There was a group of senior girls directly underneath the hanging girl, who I guessed were her friends. They were yelling up at her, and occasionally she answered. I had no idea how long she had been dangling from the disco ball, but if she hadn't been tied there was no doubt that she would have let go and fallen by now.

"Stay strong, okay! God damn it, stay strong! We'll get you down soon!"

"Let go of her, you son of a-!"

"Hey, the year twos are in here! Watch your mouth."

The boy Phantom took a few steps toward the disco ball. "I love her!" he shouted at us. He obviously intended for everyone to hear.

"Ah. I think I can guess now." I heard Edwin mutter thoughtfully.

"What, what, what?!" Estelle hissed through her teeth.

"Problems with love." He shook his head sadly. "I hope _we're_ never this bitter about girlfriends and boyfriends when we're grow up."

"You mean-" I gasped. "All this is about getting a _girlfriend?!"_

Edwin shrugged. "Perhaps. It could be about the boyfriend. Who knows? But you can't deny that it happens all the time. Are you forgetting how the first Phantom of the Opera story began?"

"Your entire civilisation is built on how a man couldn't get a girl." Estelle stated resentfully. "It's just..._insane!"_ She laughed sourly. "But hey, all the Phantoms are insane too."

"LET GO OF HER!" shrilled another girl.

The Phantom breathed in before shouting in return, "Leave us alone! _I love her!_" He went on repeating this, along with some threats. The boy was clearly mad with love. Mad like Hamlet. Mad like a Phantom.

* * *

"Oh, just let me get down, Tobias." the girl whimpered.

"No!" he roared. "You'll just run away, back to him!"

"I swear it, I swear I'll never see him again." she pleaded half-heartedly. There wasn't much space for breath in her lungs.

He swivelled his head to look at her, the dark eyes beneath the mask tunnelling into her. "And how can I trust you?"

Lynne sighed quietly. She had long ago resigned herself to what would happen. Her limbs had lost all feeling, as had her neck. Someone would get her down, and she didn't care much when. Really, what were her choices? He could let her down, and she'd get a medical once-over and some counselling. She could escape by herself, he would get angry, then he'd get taken away for some psychiatrist to chew on. Alternatively, everyone else could formulate a plan to get her down from the disco ball safely. Whatever result was reached, be it sooner or later, Lynne and Tobias would never see each other again.

Lynne blew the hair out of her eyes. _Dad's probably going to be happy about that, _she thought absently.

The red spectre took the last few steps towards her and sat on top of the beam. His boots brushed the coloured lights that hung from the beam underneath him, and he looked down slightly at the silver disco ball. His calm demeanour made it seem as if he and his companion were sitting on a wooden bench at the beach. Placing his elbows on his knees, he thought carefully for a moment. "We had our first kiss right under the disco ball, remember?" Tobias mused softly.

"I remember." Lynne whispered in reply. Her friends were still shouting at her. It would take a bit longer for her to regain her breath to yell back. "But it's over, Tobias. All of it's over and done with." She strained her neck to look him in the eye. "Let it go, Tobias." she said gently.

He gave a lopsided smile and a small chuckle. "It's not over _quite_ yet, darling."

Lynne groaned. "Oh, don't go all Lon Chaney on me. Everything has to end." She glanced hastily at the ground. "And your ending's just about due!"

He frowned at her for a moment, then caught sight of the black arrow whistling through the air heading towards his stomach.

* * *

Estelle creased her eyebrows in confusion. "They're firing at him!"

I didn't blink. Everyone inside the school hall was just the same, reluctant to miss a second of what took place. Mr Gerik's friend had fired a modern sports arrow from a crossbow at the boy on the lights, a rope attached to the rear of it.

"That's not too good for the aerodynamics, is it?" Edwin asked no one in particular. He was slapped on the shoulder by Estelle.

_That should shut him up for a while,_ I thought. I continued to watch closely as the boy caught the arrow in his lap and looked at it in befuddlement. As soon as he had picked the shaft up in his hands, several people on the ground yanked on the other end of the rope, and he toppled from his seat like a doll knocked off a shelf.

At the very same moment, a number of armed men broke through the door and into the hall.

_Things just get crazier and crazier around here!_ I thought with alarm.

"I think the police have arrived. Special forces, too!" Estelle noted with fear. "Persians."

Every pupil inside the hall began to scream and comment on this new development, all the while making for the exits. I nudged Estelle worriedly. "What are they going to do with that boy?"

Estelle scowled at the ground while she considered the circumstances. "Most likely case is that they will punish him in one way or another. Do a psychoanalysis on him. I don't know!" she cried frustratedly. "Poor kid." she said under her breath.

The schoolteachers were bringing ladders to the disco ball, now that the young Phantom was out of the way and no longer a danger. The Persians were forcing their way through the mass of spectators and to the boy on the floor.

"Gee, now I see why they didn't put a chandelier into the school hall instead!" Edwin exclaimed. He turned and looked backwards over his shoulder. "I think we should leave, guys. Almost everyone from our class is gone."

I ignored Edwin's tugs and fixed my eyes on the girl, who was being lowered from the disco ball an carried down the ladder by Mr Gerik. Her close friends were patting her and sobbing with her. She cradled her arms to her chest and cried, ignoring everything that was happening around her.

The Persian men were surrounding the young boy on all sides as he was led out of the hall. He was hopping on one leg and holding his left foot up, but otherwise seemed uninjured from his fall. I stared sadly at him. This was the closest view I'd had of a senior Phantom in the school, and he looked so broken and defeated. It must be difficult to be taken away from the person you loved.

Just before he was escorted out of the building, the young man straightened and looked over his shoulder, whispering something.

Estelle slowly tried to lip-read the boy's words. "'Don't forget me, eh?'" she said. "'Love you.'" She blinked in wonder. "Wow. Such a romantic guy, for someone who's getting a Persian escort out of the place."

Edwin stamped his foot lightly. "We should really be leaving." he urged.

"Yeah. We should." I said dumbly._ Are all Phantoms that obsessed with romance?_ I wondered as I walked out, with my friends dragging firming on my hands.

_I wonder how much one of those are for an hour's hire?_

**I've just watched the entire 1925 silent Phantom of the Opera film on YouTube, so some of it may have leaked into here. I know not much has happened in this chapter, but I'll chuck in more come the next one.**

**I've only one point of argument about the otherwise awesome Lon Chaney PotO film: Raoul asks the Persian-like and Persian-looking character who he is. And the man replies, "I am Ledoux, of the Secret Police."**

**Ledoux? _Ledoux?_ LEDOUX! Honestly?**

**Until fate and/or chance brings you to this fanfiction again,  
****DarkFlameOfTheMonkey**


	14. Surprising Change

**A/N: Does anyone here truly appreciate how heavy a washing basket full of folded clothes can be? I'm working my measly black guts out doing jobs around the house (mainly laundry and dishwashing) so that I can accumulate enough money for at least one of the souvenirs when I go to see the Phantom musical in a week!**

**Sorry again for the delay in updates for this story! I felt that I needed a break last week, and it was only a few days ago that school sprung a GIGANTIC science assignment on me. I've got three tests to study for in the next two weeks, the first part of that gigantic assignment due in less than two weeks, and another two assignments I've got to work on in the next month... Life's crazy and **_**packed**_**. Jamster is equally busy. Some reviews may not have been answered because her internet connection broke down somehow. More bad news: I may not update until halfway through the school holidays. Maybe. CURSE HIGH SCHOOL! Anyway...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, so at least I don't have to look after it.**

Surprising Change

I don't think Tobias Baker ever saw his friends or his school again after that.

The remainder of Monday was spent inside the classroom. The gossip and conversation seemed to bounce off the painted walls. Everyone knew part of what had happened, and everyone wanted to talk about it. The words filled the room steadily, rising up until it the air above our heads was thick and jumbled with conflicting sounds.

Estelle hung her head, leaned backwards in her chair and groaned loudly. "Is it only _Monday?!_"

"Death to the Mondays." I agreed half-heartedly. _Mr Gerik's would probably give us an earful about all the noise, _I thought. _He's a typical Phantom, likes his music top-quality... Good music or no sound at all. _I turned my head to look at the monkey musical box for solace. _What should we do for the rest of the day, hmm?_ I asked it in my head. The little monkey's expression didn't change. It continued to face the same direction, its clear eyes looking at something I couldn't quite determine.

Estelle nudged my arm. "What do you think will happen to that boy?" she asked timidly.

I frowned and contemplated it. We had all started the week by witnessing the end of an Ingénue abduction. I recalled faintly that being abducted was part of the girls' curriculum, but I wasn't entirely sure... Perhaps I had read it somewhere. I froze in my seat as the memory became clearer. A darkened room filled with lilting music, like in a dream...

"When do you think we'll get our abductions?" I asked Estelle in turn, completely ignoring her question.

"What if our own Phantom does it?" She was referring to Mr Gerik. "I think I'd burst out laughing if he showed up when it's my turn!"

"Strange how you should bring that up, Estelle..." I mumbled.

Estelle looked fearfully out the window, but there was nothing there to look at. "Today... What happened today wasn't planned, was it?"

I nodded. The events of the morning had left most of the class nervous and shaken. We had no idea where the Phantom was and when he was going to come back in and tell us what to do. I knitted my eyebrows and said slowly, "Do you feel like a man is suddenly going to leap out of the wall and-" I brought my eyes swiftly to the teacher's trap-door in the floor behind his desk; it was still like the monkey on top of the music box.

And then, in savage irony, a man suddenly leapt out of the wall.

I almost screamed, but stopped myself. _The world appears to enjoy making a mockery of me! _I thought, then started laughing slightly. In actual fact, the man didn't burst through the wall, but opted rather for the door. Similar enough. It was a good thing, in all honesty. A wall would have been far less kind to his nose.

The man was one of the school teachers, but not the Phantom we had been used to for the past weeks. He was dark-skinned, and did not sport the black mask and cape of a Phantom. His grey suit was a surprising, but pleasant change from a Phantom's flowing and mysterious attire. This man also did not spend time on dramatic entrances like Mr Gerik and his trap-door.

"Oh, it is so late in the day. Sorry, students." The man walked the few steps to the teacher's desk and stood behind the chair, speaking to us. "As you may have heard," he continued, "there was a matter of importance that the teachers had to attend to this morning. Your teacher is busy at the moment organizing some things and I will be taking care of you until he returns."

One of the girls raised her hand haltingly. "When will that be, sir?" she asked politely.

He inclined his head, thinking. "I am not sure of this. It all depends." He did not specify on what it would depend. "Now, I am Nadir Khan." He spun around and wrote it in the corner of the chalkboard. "Can someone tell me what you were working on before your teacher was called away?"

"Case Studies on Erique Claudin and Christine Dubois, sir." we chorused.

Nadir Khan shook his head. "A shame. My expertise lies somewhere else. Maybe I can visit you later when you get to that subject." He caught sight of the music box and his eyes brightened a fraction. "He still has this?" he murmured.

The class immediately focused on this new Persian teacher and what he was doing. I, at least, felt a kindred connection to the monkey. Mr Gerik had introduced the Music of the Night to me using it, and I enjoyed looking at it when I was bored or upset.

Mr Khan put his hands around the music box, but did not pick it up off the table. He was clearly thinking privately and muttered some incoherent phrases. The Persian's gaze drifted to the drawer in the desk. The teacher cocked an eyebrow and opened it.

"Your teacher has not used this on anyone yet, has he?" Mr Khan frowned crossly at the rope in his hand. He was holding the Punjab lasso for us to see. I almost piped up that I had been secured to a chair with it, but thought that I shouldn't bring it up. I felt the aura of the classroom become darker as every one of us recalled Josephine Marrick's disappearance.

Mr Khan leaned down and put his hand back into the drawer. He withdrew a shorter, thinner noose. It could probably fit my fist into the loop, but nothing larger. "What on earth does he do with this?" he cried with a wry smile. "He has not killed anyone's pet guinea pig, has he?"

We had to laugh. The idea was frightening, but undoubtedly humorous. _At least they're not laughing at me! _I reflected, bringing a hand to my mouth to stifle to giggles.

"Excuse me, children. I have to go outside and take care of these. I will be back in a moment!" Mr Khan took a large pair of scissors from the drawer as well and walked outside into the corridor.

We stood up in our chairs and strained to look out into the quadrangle as the teacher gracefully lifted the lid on the garbage bin and dropped some lengths of rope inside. My eyes widened and I felt a sigh of admiration pass my lips, followed by more laughter. We all scrambled to sit back down as Mr Khan stepped back into the classroom.

I was beginning to enjoy having this Persian teacher. He apparently was close to Mr Gerik, but did not fear him. I could see from looking around that we all liked his strange sense of humour and his utter refusal to use contractions in his speech!

Mr Khan lightly brushed his hands off on his pants and returned his attention to us. He looked affectionately at the monkey on the corner of the desk. "Does Mr Gerik bring that home with him?" he asked us.

This question caught us by surprise, but grateful for the lack of work, we each interjected our opinions and guesses. I was reminded of my two detentions, but never once did I remember Mr Gerik hinting that he took the music box home.

"How do you know so much about the monkey, Mr Khan?" Edwin asked respectfully.

The Persian man laughed lightly. "Oh, I do not know much. But I was the person who gave it as a gift to your teacher."

"Tell us the story, sir!" a girl cried.

He pondered this for a moment, then sat on the corner of the wooden desk and began talking. "Your teacher and I were travelling together in the north of India. We were planning to make our way west, and he wanted a stop in Africa to see something; he never told me what it was he wanted there…"

I relaxed at my desk, not bothering to pack away my pencil case. There were only a couple of hours until school ended. It would be best if no one reminded him we had work to do… Besides, it was bound to be an interesting story.

**If my chapters are getting shorter, I'm sorry. If there are any errors, please alert me and I'll take care of it. Leave a review if you deem it worthy of your time…!**

**Random rant: If I say I'm going to wash the dishes for money to buy a Phantom of the Opera souvenir, I MEAN IT! You don't go and do half of it for me! Grr!**

**Until the next time I sit in front of a laptop for hours on end,  
DarkFlame**


	15. She Who Disappears

**A/N: Life is going through a meaningless rut at the moment. That doesn't matter much to you, I guess, but my apologies for the slow updates! I've got two school assignments to work on during the next two weeks, oi...**

**Disclaimer: Not owning PotO. Sucks to be us.**

She Who Disappears

"There is an art," Madame Giry said with a leisurely swing of her cane, "to cape-swishing."

Estelle inclined her head. "She's done something with her hair, I swear it." she muttered. I smiled and elbowed her.

The sports instructor continued above the gossip. "You may be wondering why the entire class is here." She paused and looked right at me. I sucked in my stomach, instinctively wanting to disappear even though there was no malice from the people around me. "Well, you have this young girl here to thank, because I've spoken to the principal of the school and we've redone the syllabus. Girls and boys will have equal opportunity when it comes to sport and PE now."

There was silence for a moment or two, then a rising chorus of whoops and groans. I looked at Edwin to see if he still remembered the swordfight we had at the beginning of the year. It seemed so long ago that it happened...

He looked stricken at Madame Giry's news. "Does this mean we have to _dance?_" he cried.

My eyebrows shot up and a smirk slowly spread across my lips. The girls behind me were giggling and screaming with laughter. _God, we're worse than ballet rats!_ I thought. Whispers started and travelled rapidly. "Cape-swishing! We're going to swish capes! Oh, it's going to be _hilarious!_"

Madame Giry raised her black cane and lowered it with a sharp thud, silencing the hushed conversation. "For this special lesson, we need an experienced teacher." She pointed the tip of her cane at the door of the gymnasium. All heads swivelled to see Meg walk in with a crate in her arms, the black contents bulging over the rim to obscure her entire face. Behind Madame Giry's daughter was Nadir Khan.

"Sir! We thought you were teaching maths to the seniors!" we shouted delightedly.

My spirits rose, then lowered a little. I had expected Mr Gerik to come striding in. He seemed the perfect mentor for cape-swishing. We hadn't seen or heard from him in four days, and Mr Khan could tell us little about his absence.

"Madame, where is Monsieur Gerik?" I asked after raising my hand. "My apologies to Monsieur Khan, but I'm only curious- That is to say, we're-" I struggled to bring my words into a logical order, blushing more and more as the embarrassment elevated.

Mr Khan raised a hand and my voice petered into silence. Madame Giry was about to scold me for being nosy, but she too was quieted. "I do not know much about what he is doing, but I suspect he needs rest." Mr Khan answered after some thought. "I admit that your teacher is very knowledgeable on this topic, and it is regrettable that he is not here. But he _has_ shared some tips with me over the years, and these I will show you." A playful smile lit up his face, then vanished. He clapped his hands together and picked one of the capes from Meg Giry's crate.

The class inched forward to where he stood. Without a word, Mr Khan shook out the material and placed it on his shoulders. A pause caused everyone to hold their breath. Giving no warning, the Persian man brought his hands up and spun. The black fabric rippled and moved several metres around in a revolution.

It was not the most impressive thing we were likely to see in our lives, but we applauded lightly nonetheless.

"It's all about the delivery, children." Madame Giry told us, and Mr Khan agreed.

"I am going to repeat that a few times, and tell you exactly what to do on the way." The cape was placed back on his shoulders. "There are many, _many _variations on the method and result, but essentially, you need a cape or cloak. Now, just watch this..."

* * *

Within a few minutes of observing, we had visualised the stances and moves in our minds and now we were busy experimenting with the capes from Meg's box. The sports hall was filled with spinning masses of black. The capes were surprisingly light, unlike the heavy thick ones the boys had to wear as a uniform. They turned grey and darkened as we moved them. My arms began to ache as I tried a high vertical swish (useful to hide oneself, they told us), another one that involved jutting my elbow out... Mr Khan had been right about the variations. Cape swishes being so unique and unpredictable, throughout history there were undoubtedly hundreds, and we were only creating more!

"Dana!" Estelle hissed at me abruptly as I was in the middle of a full body pivot.

I dropped my arm and raised my head. What was Estelle talking about? I froze as the air suddenly seemed to crackle with electric energy, and a second later there was a burst of orange light. I jumped, as did most -if not all- of the other kids.

"What was that?!" I demanded. I was seeing spots from the flash. It was so sudden, so unexpected, so unimaginably bright and strong. It reminded me of something Charles had done at my birthday, something he'd learnt from his work in theatre. An explosion of stars and fire...

Our Persian teacher stood where the light had been, laughing softly. "Did that seem familiar to any of you?" he called through the hall.

Estelle jumped up and down next to me, her arm waving in the air. "Oh, sir, sir! I know it!" Her face was bright and she was bursting to answer. "It's the Magician's Flame that many use to conceal escapes. But Mr Khan, what did you _use_ for it? I've never seen anything that potent!"

"Gather back here, everyone." Madame Giry and Meg called. We abandoned our black capes and rushed to the front of the gym again.

"The purpose of the Magician's Flame is not to produce any real magic, but to conceal and distract." Nadir Khan revealed. "All about the delivery. No magic, just tricks." He lifted a hand and there was another explosion at his feet, just as strong as the first. After the smoke cleared he was still standing at the same spot. "Of course, I am no Phantom." he continued to say. "Take care when it is a Phantom lighting the fire, and when there are trap-doors beneath your feet! But that is not to say that it does not take real magic to create a Phantom's intended conclusion..."

The students laughed and admired the stunt, but I shivered. The sports uniform was thin and let me feel every draught, but perhaps it was something else... The air sizzled again, but only slightly. When no eruption of theatrics came, I relaxed once more.

"No time to let you all try it today." Mr Khan said, receiving disappointed moans. He glanced at his watch. "We have a little time left, so I will move on to my final trick. This is the best of all, and a Phantom's most guarded secret."

I looked over my shoulder to watch Meg Giry open a storage room and drag out a great, bulky object from it, covered with a faded and dusty cloth. "Mama, I don't believe they are ready!" I heard her say to Madame Giry, who was close by.

With a hasty glance back at Mr Khan, I slowly inched my way to the back of the group to hear better.

"They are young, Mama. They don't fully understand it; they think it's just a fancy trick! It's not right!" Meg straightened from moving the item and stamped her foot.

"Meg, wait until Monsieur Gerik returns!" her mother replied. "He'll box your ears, but if you're really concerned about this, talk to him about it."

"But he's not here now, and this is what we're doing _now!_"

"Meg Giry! Keep quiet and finish your task! We can discuss this later."

Meg lowered her face and grumbled, continuing to drag the thing towards us. As it neared, I shuddered again.

"What's that?" I whispered at Meg.

She shook her head, her blonde tresses whipping her in the face. "When your heart gets broken, you will think of this sport lesson!" was her only response to me.

I turned to listen to Mr Khan again, contemplating what Meg Giry had just said. _When my heart gets broken... What does that mean? What has that got to do with this new trick?_

Mr Khan had finished talking, and I had not heard a word of it. With a gesture from him, Meg pulled off the cloth. Everyone's eyes drank the sight in, and for a long moment I was sure that no one was breathing.

"Mon Dieu!" Estelle said breathlessly. Her eyelids fluttered and she staggered backward in shock.

_My God indeed!_ I racked my memory. _Music of the Night, yes... Phantom, night, music..._

It seemed that no one else recognised it, but it hit me. "Sweet Music's throne!" I yelled. I ran my gaze all over its shape. It was so beautiful, so dark. Some might say that it was just a chair, but looking at it, I knew that it had other things to offer than just a seat.

Mr Khan broke the frozen state of awe by walking forward and sitting on it, lifting one of the black capes in front of him. Meg skirted the throne and once she was in front of it, tugged the black material away like a professional magician's assistant. We gasped when we saw that the seat was empty. He had disappeared. Simply not there anymore! Meg bent down and plucked something off the throne.

"You've a very nice wedding ring, monsieur." she said emotionlessly.

"Ah, thank you, Meg." More gasps and claps were given when Mr Khan walked through the gymnasium door from the outside. He took back his trinket and said, "Who wants a try?" He pointed at me. "Say, would you like a turn, Dana? You've been so quiet all week."

I dipped my head gratefully and stepped forward. "What do I do?" I asked nervously.

Meg handed me the cape. "Nothing. Just sit and hold up the cape. We'll tell you later." She shook her head again. "Sometimes I think that it _is_ real magic. But of course it can't be..."

Her voice was muffled as I held the cape in front of my face, lifting my feet off the ground and tucking them under my legs on the seat of the throne. I was surrounded by blackness, and then there was a sensation in my stomach that felt like I was falling from a great height. It was like the seat of a ride at a fair that had suddenly dropped.

I let out a sharp cry, letting go of the cape. True fear made its way through my body as I saw a wax candle right in front of my face. I could feel the heat from its tiny flame. There were more, many more, scattered around me for an immeasurable distance, making the space feel infinite. _This is madness!_ I thought worriedly. _They didn't tell me anything about candles in the darkness!_

The sound of a chord from what I swore to be a pipe organ thundered past my ears and I screamed. I waved my hands in front of my head, catching something. I screamed some more. Something brushed my left cheek, then the other one, more firmly. Panic took hold and was refusing to let go of me. More shadows, more candlelight. _I've gone mad! I can't be down here!_

_Wait, down?_

Light hammered its way under my eyelids and I opened my eyes fully. I was on the hard, uneven floor of the school gym. Estelle was shaking my shoulders, Edwin kneeling by my stomach and calling my name. I looked blankly at my friends, then directly above me.

Meg Giry put her hands on her hips and shook her head sadly.

**The ending with the throne comes from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. The throne is awesome, Meg Giry's ending is awesome, the disappearing act is awesome. I only wish I would see it all again!**

**Any constructive criticism is welcomed!**


	16. The Flickering Light

**A/N: My apologies for the boring filler chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Not owning, never did, maybe will when I take over the world (or something equally stupid).**

The Flickering Light

"I- I don't know!" I blinked and stretched my neck. Hunting through my sports bag, I grasped the sleeve of my school dress and roughly pulled it out.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Estelle demanded. "What was it that had you shrieking your lungs out?"

"All I saw was a million candles, and total emptiness in between." I replied. The room was obscured for a moment by the skirt of my uniform over my face. "No one warned me about that, so I screamed."

"Candles..." Estelle mumbled. "Where would you find a huge black cavern filled with candles?"

"Lair." I said shortly.

"_Whose_ lair?" she argued, bringing her fist down onto her palm. "And we can't have a lair under the school, there's supposed to be a swimming pool!"

"What happened to me when I put the cape up?" I asked.

Estelle shrugged. "The whole point of the cape, I guess, is so that no one sees what happens to you." She stopped and put a finger to her chin. "You sort of...fell out of the throne. Toppled from the seat like a toy."

_Wonderful! _I thought, rolling my eyes. _A great help! _I bit my lip, and the conversation ceased for a moment.

"So you're telling me that you fell into a secret underground lair. That's a bit cliché, isn't it, Dana?" Estelle laughed dryly. "Consider yourself lucky you didn't fall into a torture chamber, Dana! You know, I-" She broke off as I gripped her by the arm and looked her in the eye.

"Estelle," I said in a low voice. "you've just put the craziest, most ludicrous idea into my head, but you're my friend, so I'm telling you not to blame yourself and _not_ to follow me." With that I closed my mouth firmly and zipped up the back of my dress. Then, without a wave or word, I turned and jogged out of the crowded girls' change room.

"Dana?" Estelle called feebly. I heard her footsteps on the vinyl floor, then they stopped. "Dana! Being crazy and risk-taking used to be my job!" she shouted after my shrinking back. "Well, back in primary school, it was..."

* * *

_You're worse than Josephine! _a voice in my head warned. _You'll be hanged for this, Dana, HANGED!_

"Mmph. So what?" I muttered heedlessly.

'_So what?!' _the warning voice screeched. _It's not worth it! You'll be found and you'll get in trouble... Just for solving a little mystery?_

I stopped at the door of the gymnasium, my breaths short and thin. I found myself whispering madly. "Maybe it's been packed away..." Part of me wanted the throne to still be there, another wanted it to be gone so I wouldn't have to do it. "Is it there, is it there, is it there...?"

I cautiously slipped into the gym, scanning the room for the throne. It was near the door of the storage room, the box of capes placed on top of it. "Oh bugger." I said thoughtfully. To move the crate would be to incriminate myself. There was no way I could put it back on top of the throne after I did...whatever it was that I was supposed to do. I could replace the crate once I had returned, but suppose someone came before that and suspected...?

"Oh _bugger._" I hissed again. An unexpected dilemma: I had no idea how to get back out once the trick had been done. I stood there thinking for a few short moments, wondering if the idea was too vague to be worth going through with. Then I heard footsteps and the opening of a door. No doubt it was Meg Giry coming to pack away the sports equipment.

I became frantic. _I can get caught, or I can disappear, _I thought decisively.I took a step towards the black throne. _Gosh, you're an idiot, Dana,_ the niggling voice said. I lifted the box of capes off the seat with a sigh. _Well, you only live once. _Once the seat of the throne was exposed, I turned and lowered myself onto it, closing my eyes.

_Wouldn't it be just _stupid_ if someone came in and saw me sitting like this?_

"Shut up." I told my brain.

The darkness enveloped me once again, and again there was a sensation of falling. I opened my eyes as soon as the feeling started. There was pitch black, but I got the vague notion that there was something big and flat rushing up to meet me... Or_ I_ was coming to meet _it_ within seconds.

"BUGGER IT!" I yelled as the ground slammed into my face. Well, it didn't go into my _face, _nor did it really _slam_ itself. I fell awkwardly but lightly on my side. I propped myself up and looked around, gasping. There was emptiness around me for a moment, and then a lone candle appeared. Within seconds, a million more had joined it. The points of light mocked me.

_Well, you've made it. What's the rest of your plan, Dana, my girl?_

"I thought I told you to shut it." I groaned, eventually getting the will to push myself off the ground. I turned my head from side to side, taking in my surroundings. "Okay... Nice place, really." I commented aloud. I figured that if I was alone for too long, I would gradually go insane with fear. With the adrenaline coursing through me, I guessed it would take a shorter time than usual for that to happen.

By some stroke of strange luck, it turned out that I wasn't going to be by myself for long at all.

"I'm very glad you think so, Dana." a smooth voice whispered in answer.

I felt a large hand on my shoulder. Before I could cry out I was pulled backwards and through a door. _Bugger, bugger, bugger! I didn't plan for this! _I blinked furiously, trying to see who had grabbed me. The chamber I was now in was a lot brighter than the candlelit room. There was a rug, curtains, lamps... It felt like a house. In fact, it could very well have been a house-

"Mr Gerik, sir!" I stammered as I stumbled backwards.

The Phantom released me and crossed his arms. "How kind of you to visit."

I gulped, looking down. He was making small talk, so I would be pushed to give him the true answers. I could tell from the way he spoke that he really meant, _"What in Michael Crawford's name are you doing here?" _Well, I felt a number of things were clear. First of all, this schoolteacher had caught me at idiotic, awkward moments before. I didn't honestly want him to make a fool of me again, but this situation was unavoidable. So, why not tell the truth? It might save me from trouble and a possible detention.

"I would take a while to explain, sir." I began. "PE with Madame ended..."

The Phantom nodded, not taking his eyes off me. Willing me to crack and submit. "You should be in class, but _do continue_." He narrowed his eyes as he said this.

With a swift glance at my watch, I gave a tiny smile and said, "Recess just started." _I'm free to be where I want! _I added silently. _Well, I think most places..._

I took a breath. "To be frank, sir, I sneaked-" I cringed inwardly; perhaps not the best word, "into the gym and used the throne, the black one. Sweet Music's throne, isn't it? Mr Khan showed it to us during sport, and I was curious about it." I looked past him and back into the chamber filled with countless candles. I raised my eyebrows when I realised what it was.

"A _cistula,_ Mr Gerik?" I asked meekly, going off the topic. I felt like slapping myself. It wasn't a mystical infinite space. I would see the join between two of the mirrors, and a small wax candle stood on a shelf there. Or maybe the real candle was somewhere else... One thing was apparent: it looked very, _very_ cool now that I wasn't in the middle of it.

The Phantom swivelled his head to look at it. "Indeed." He said shortly, stepping back and closing the door he had pulled me through. The closed door and wall were seamless. "Now, about your little adventure. Would I be correct in summarising that you had your first cape-swishing and illusions lesson from Madame Giry and Mr Khan? And then you went and got the throne to transport you here."

I nodded rapidly. "Correct, sir, quite correct. But if you wouldn't mind me asking, what is _here,_ exactly?"

He threw up his arms, seemingly satisfied with my story and willing to move on. "Not my permanent home, as you might guess. One goes here when one needs a break from life." He noticed my facial expression and laughed. "You didn't think I had a lair under the school, did you? What point would there be if society treats you perfectly well? It wasn't always the case though, if you look at history. Read your Case Studies textbook sometime." The Phantom turned and walked further into the room. I followed nervously.

It really did look like a comfortable home. And Mr Gerik looked comfortable in it; he wasn't dressed in the cape and Don Juan garb, but a loose white shirt. For an underground lair, it wasn't very cold. I picked up my skirt and ran to catch up to him.

"So this is where you've been for the past week, is it, sir?" I asked quietly. _Remember what Mum told you about conversation. Use flattery like hell's on your heels. _"It is a nice place, and well-decorated. But it's getting a little uninteresting back at school, sir. When will you be back? Are you going to stay down here for the rest of the year?"

"So my friend Nadir is boring you, is he?" the Phantom inquired.

I tensed. "No sir, I only say that because-" I trailed off. _Yeah, why did you say that, Dana? Quick, cover it up, backtrack! _But I was saved from this.

"I suppose I should go back to teaching. I didn't bring many instruments with me, and three days of nothing but violin can get uninteresting, too."

"And the stress from dealing with the disco ball fiasco-" I broke off, tilting my head down just as he turned around to look at me. _I didn't say a thing. Your mouth is going all over the place. Another topic!_

"Mr Gerik, I don't really understand how I got here from, well..." I pointed feebly to the ceiling. I received another short laugh from him. _I guess the relaxation has done him good, _I noted.

He gestured at a chair and I awkwardly sat down, unsure of what he was about to do. _He hasn't got another Punjab lasso down here, has he? _I shuddered slightly at the memory of my last detention.

"I can't tell you that yet, Dana. For now, think of it as a dream."

I tilted my head, not the best thing to do in front of a Phantom to make you look intelligent. "Begging your pardon, sir?"

He waved a hand in front of my eyes. "Only a dream."

* * *

I squinted against the sunlight. The throne was cold and hard. A hand was clamped around my wrist. I snapped my eyes open, worried it was Meg or a teacher.

"I _knew_ you'd come back here, Dana. Sheesh, let's get out of here. We've got twenty seconds until recess ends."

"Estelle, I thought I told you not to follow me!" I cried, pushing myself off the black throne and lifting the crate. I placed it carefully back onto the seat, then went after her out the door.

Once we were outside, Estelle turned around and put her hands on her hips, for a moment looking just like my mother. "And if I _hadn't_ come and got you, you would have sat on that chair for the whole day. When I came in you were just- just _sitting_ there."

My full attention went onto her. "I was? Asleep or staring off into space?"

"Like a cane toad with constipation." Estelle said, repeating her old joke of me.

I bit my lip as I thought. "Maybe it was a dream..." I mumbled. "I'll have to ask him about that next week."

Estelle frowned suspiciously. "Ask who? I'm a smart lass, Dana. I can work it out."

I shook my head and turned Estelle around, pushing her in the direction of the lunch quadrangle. She stepped forward and walked with a huff, but no other complaint.

Something tells me the old Phantom's going to be back soon... And we'd better be prepared for the homework.

**Bit of writer's block; sorry for the boring chapter; I was kind of relying on Jamster to flesh out my ideas but oh well...**


	17. She Who Psychologically Implodes

**A/N: I came up with the chapter title, then had a short attack of writer's block, then began to get incredibly distracted. And so I did feel like psychologically imploding myself.**

**Disclaimer: I'm too busy to own Poto, I have laundry to do!**

She Who Psychologically Implodes

The trap-door opened without a noise.

Thirty breaths were pulled into thirty mouths and the room full of frozen, breathless humans was silent. Again. The Phantom had made his return.

At that point, I began to fear for my health and the health of the other school pupils as well. I mean, it _can't_ be healthy for your lungs and heart to abruptly cease working five times a week. There is an unbearable aura around him that possesses the power to kill us all. And yet at the same time that aura is incredibly, _incredibly_ addictive. So addictive that I can not possibly end my habit of talking about it all of the time and describing the effect it has.

Damn it, he's _got_ to stop doing that!

On occasion, Almighty Gaston Leroux in the Heavenly Realm of Literature spares an irregularly-shaped scrap or two of mercy on our wee souls. He must have been having a bad hair day, and so could not trouble himself to cushion the blow upon our lives.

"Good news, class. Your General Phantomy exams are set during the coming weeks."

So the first thing that Mr Gerik says to us after his absence is not a, "Hello," or a, "Good to be back," or even, "I missed you," but, "YOUR DOOM AWAITS."

Well, perhaps I was the only one who expected half-decent words from him. But from all my experience, I probably should be expecting the opposite. There is a general image of Phantoms: Dark, strange, intelligent and easily angered men. But something made me believe that maybe this one was just a little bit different. It could have been the dream I had the night before the school year started. Or all of the extra time I spent with him in detention, not to mention that weird escapade with the throne... He has actually been nice to me and to few else.

Some of the time.

And at some point during my confused daydreaming, I came up with this: By some stroke of odd luck, I was the teacher's pet.

_Oh my Michael Crawford._

While I was going through all this useless information in my mind, the teacher had been talking. I pinched myself on the thigh and mentally slapped myself, quite violently. This would not do. Every student of every age in every school should know that to daydream while your teacher was speaking was to invoke embarrassment and sometimes a form of punishment.

And when the teacher is a Phantom and he's talking about your essential Phantomy exams, it's almost the same as educational suicide.

I did my best to tune back in to Mr Gerik's words. A few more firm pinches helped in this. I blamed my pencil case. _Curse you, colourful pencil case! Oh no, drifting off into random thoughts again... You must think of PHANTOMY, your crucial exams which you will _fail,_ Dana. Think of the chandeliers-_

At last! My thoughts and the Phantom's words were in sync with each other!

"No exact dates are set yet, but I can tell you that with the term almost near its end, the exams will be held in approximately one and a half weeks." He had sat himself on top of his desk, gazing airily around the classroom. His eyes eventually focused on me and the dreaded words came, "Are you listening, Dana?"

I didn't flinch. If I had, then I would most likely have gotten a lecture and maybe more detention. The essentil key to success is to look innocent and pray that it fools everyone. "Yes, sir." I said sweetly. Oh, the sweetness was going to choke me. The Phantom was looking at me and normally it was so easy for me to put some sweetness into my voice but when _he's_ watching, it backfires on you- _Argh! _I mentally yelled. _Stop it, you stupid brain!_

Mr Gerik seemed satisfied with my short words. Perhaps I was just imagining it all. As I recall, I didn't have a good sleep last night...

The Phantom continued with his informational monologue. "And before that, we have a lot to do. Most importantly, I have to teach you how to properly crash a chandelier." He stood up like a surging wave. "We're going to the hall."

With inward excitement beginning to flare within us after hearing that brief statement, the class got out of their chairs and merged into a messy group that tumbled out of the room. I fell into step beside Estelle, always the reliable one for information.

Estelle saw the look on my face and rolled her eyes, but a smile sparkled on her lips. I didn't need to tell her what I needed. It was amazingly useful to have her for a best friend.

"The exams are going to include a lot of things." she began to whisper to me as we walked. "A mixture of practical assessments and theoretical questions. We're going to have to study for the theory, but the teacher's going to run us through the practicals." Her grin widened, just a miniscule length. "First up is chandelier-crashing, not just for the boys but for _us_ as well!"

I slapped my palm to my mouth, desiring to laugh and shriek until I was in pain. "Are the little Phantoms going to be singing like sopranos as we lead them across a lake?" It was meant as a joke, but I was prepared for a positive confirmation from Estelle. Ever since I went into that swordfight with Edwin and that cape-swishing lesson, I was opening my mind to the new possibilities. Oh God, that would be so funny...

Estelle gave a soft shove to my shoulder, also stifling her laughter. "Sadly, no. We're going to be paired up within the class and the boys are going to be doing to seductive leading."

"Ach, it's a downright shame!" I could not help beaming at the thought of the abduction exams. "I was so looking forward to seeing the lads sing a little operatic cadenza!"

"Oh, that reminds me." Estelle said. "One of the practical assessments is going to be a musical arrangement. We're going to be put into groups, go to the music rooms and put together something. There was a bit more explanation," she said thoughtfully, "but the teacher said he'll go through that again when the time comes."

I groaned and kneaded my forehead. "Just how much did I miss?"

Estelle patted me lightly on the shoulder. "We'll all do fine with the exams. Now let's just watch the chandeliers hit the floor and enjoy the spectacle."

"You think that this will be _relaxing?_"

Estelle shook her head. "Maybe if we listen to them shattering on the ground for days on end, but otherwise, it's sure to be heaps of fun!"

* * *

"What's the first precaution you have to take before you do _anything?_

The class was staring up at a shining, magnificent chandelier. It was _big_ and _beautiful_ and- I was almost sad to know that we were about to see it destroyed. At some point the disco ball in the school hall had been taken down and replaced by a chandelier. It was probably not the largest in history –we were only a humble school- but the decoration was rather impressive from where we stood.

One or two students had raised their hands in response to the teacher's question. For a few moments I carefully pondered it. The first thing you would have to consider... _Location, location, location._ And why you would have to send the chandelier crashing in the first place. Your purpose and target. Wow, it seems like a lot more work than I had initially thought.

Estelle, once again, had an answer. She grumbled quietly to herself when Mr Gerik's eyes passed over her and chose another of the kids.

"One must make sure that one can bring down the chandelier from a safe place, away from oneself and the people one does not wish to harm, sir."

The Phantom nodded slowly. "Correct. That is why we are in the hall. It's a big place. Now everyone, get onto the stage and watch carefully."

Once we had all climbed the steps onto the hall stage, I noticed that there was a ladder at the back of it, up against the wall. There was also a thick, black cable fastened to the wall right next to the ladder. My eyes followed the cable until the end vanished into the ceiling.

I must have been onto something, for the Phantom directed our attention to that spot by ascending a few steps of the ladder. He took out a screwdriver (of all things) and pried away the bracket that held the cable to the wall. The black cable rapidly snaked up the wall once the bracket was loose enough.

Everyone spun around in time to see the glimmering chandelier shake a little in its position, then quite simply _fell_ from the ceiling to the wooden panelled floor. It was graceful, sort of... The chandelier's descent was petrifying, absolutely petrifying until it actually came into contact with the ground.

It did not shatter or break into pieces. It just lay there, as if to say, _"Alright, is this all you wanted me for? Okay, it's done. What now?"_

Estelle cocked her head, a deep frown on her face. Then the realization gradually spread all across her face, smoothing out her skin until her eyes were wide and shining. "Plastic?!"

The Phantom chuckled darkly from his position on the ladder, causing me to shiver. The shadows of the stage increased his frightening look. It felt too much like and maniacal Opera Ghost was about to pounce on us.

"Points to Miss Estelle for solving it; my congratulations." he proclaimed. "Although, I did expect at least one of you to see it _before_ it crashed."

The class looked at the floor in embarrassment of how we had been so awed by the chandelier, then decided to study the chandelier closely now that it was on the floor. It couldn't be _plastic,_ surely? But of course, they would never let humble year seven pupils use up so many real chandeliers, and it was only for practise.

Mr Gerik allowed a soft laugh to escape his throat and with a somewhat kindly smirk asked, "Who wants to have a go?"

A cheer rose up from the class, a loud one. Plastic or not, we couldn't wait to try it for ourselves. A queue quickly formed at the ladder and chatter broke out among the children.

"I'd get one in my bedroom!" Edwin turned around from his place in the line and told me.

Estelle laughed, jumping as one of the pupils let go of the cable. The sound of the chandelier smashing against the floor sliced through the air. The chandelier was raised, and it all happened again. Estelle glanced at it as the bulky mass was hauled back into position. "If you can afford one, give me one for Christmas!"

"And you'll keep your parents up all night with your evil laughing?" I questioned. I took on a deep voice and declared, "_Behold!_ I am bringing down my tiny chandelier on top of my mattress! Ahahaa!"

Edwin grinned. "I can laugh better than that! A chandelier crash needs professional style."

"Well, you'd have to call in the professionals then, wouldn't you, Edwin?" Estelle retorted.

_It's not a bad idea, actually, _I thought, while Edwin and Estelle started arguing about who could laugh more maniacally. _Having your own chandelier in your room would be nice._

Hmm... I'll have to ask Mum where we could buy one.

* * *

Mum knocked on my bedroom door. "Dana? Can I come in?" she called through the wood.

"I'm studying General Phantomy!" I replied. I turned the page in my Case Studies textbook. The test would include a few questions on history. I had no idea how difficult they would be to answer or how deep the questions would be delving, but I was taking no chances. I would either memorise the contents of my book or die trying.

Well, I would settle for remembering most of it.

My mother knocked again, then opened the door and stepped into my room. "Dana, it's thirty past ten. You need to get to sleep, it's only Monday night! You've got school tomorrow, and all the days after that, too."

"I know, Mum." I said without looking up from my textbook. "I've just got to study a bit more..."

Mum sat herself on my bed. "I know that you're worried about your examinations. And it would be _cruel_ to get your heart rate up any further..."

I took a moment to raise my head and look at her. I recognised the voice she had used. She didn't use that kind of teasing tone very often. Mum teased me often, certainly. But she rarely teased me when she herself felt excitement. Her voice took on a high-pitched, light quality. I would know it anywhere.

"What is it, Mum?" I asked slowly, suspicious of what she was going to tell me.

She did not say another word, but flicked two small pieces of paper from her wrist. They landed on top of the pages of my book. I could feel my eyes bugging out as I stared at them, absorbing the detail.

I could do nothing other than shriek, "Mum! How- HOW?"

"How I got them? Charles' theatre is doing a month's season of the musical." She winked. "It's handy to be the fiancée of one of the cast members, you know."

"But The Grand has never put on the show before." I was shouting now, bouncing on top of my bed as I looked at the tickets. "_The Phantom of the Opera_ at The Grand Theatre? And we have _tickets?_" I rushed out the words, not truly believing it. Every year, one of the theatres in the city put on the '_The Phantom of the Opera' _musical. It's a community tradition. The greatest musical of all time –and I was going.

Mum picked up the tickets again. "Is the performance going to disrupt your study?"

My head snapped up. "No, no, it's fine! There's nothing big on." I paused. "When is it?"

Mum looked at the tickets. "In two weeks' time, on the weekend."

"The exams should have finished by then." I assured her confidently.

She held the tickets up to the light. "They're beautiful, aren't they?" she asked with a smile.

I nodded silently. No words could do those pieces of cardboard justice.

"You're about to fall asleep right here and now, aren't you?" Mum stood up, the tickets in her hand. "You get to sleep and study tomorrow. You've been studying since you came home. I can always sell these tickets to someone else if you don't have the time to go."

"Turning off light and sleeping!" I slammed the textbook closed and switched off the bedside lamp.

Mum always knows how to get me motivated.

**If you have any criticisms, please bring them to my attention with a review. My concentration was going all over the place as I wrote this. Anything you have to say is appreciated.**

**On another note, I'm going to see the Phantom musical a FOURTH time next month! I'm going to have to take a day off school, it's a matinee show on Wednesday and I'm sitting in the third row of the stalls! Judging from the diagram of the seats, it's in the centre, too. XD Twenty-four hours ago, I thought I was never going to see it again (until I went to either London of Las Vegas) but all of a sudden I broke through to my parents. My mother made me promise to quit biting my nails or not go to the musical. That's my motivation.**

**And yes, I am aware that 'Phantomy' is not a real word. A bit of creative license.**

**Anyway, farewell for now!  
DarkFlame**


	18. Of Monkeys and Toads

**A/N: Okay, time to explain myself... I decided to take last weekend off writing fanfic (my parents were yelling at me to get off the computer for once and I had a bit more writer's block than usual). I actually enjoyed myself. There was decent television on that night (on a Sunday, that's rare) and I had a nice book to finish reading. And this weekend, I was definitely going to get the chapter done!**

**Bad timing for a break. This weekend is the start of several weeks of non-stop studying. I've got two minor/moderate tests, a major test, a practical assessment in Science (kind of like the chandelier-crashing thing!) and half an assignment to hand in. And most of that's in less than three weeks. And smack bang in the middle of it all is my trip to Phantom!**

**So if I'm dead in two weeks' time, you know what happened.**

**But anyway, you're probably not reading this at all, so moving on to the story!**

**Disclaimer: Antarctican penguins would seel vodka martinis before I own Phantom of the Opera! ; )**

Of Monkeys and Toads

_I've got eight days,_ I thought as I lay in bed. _If the exams take place on the Wednesday of next week, then I have eight days. Should be right._ As the night wore on, I inevitably relinquished to sleep.

The week wore on as well. Eight days turned into six, and then -much sooner than I had hoped- into five.

I was feeling good about myself when I walked into the classroom on Friday. I had been poring over my Case Studies textbook and I felt like I could recall most of it. I was oddly optimistic about it all... The morning went fine with Madame Giry in sport (the girls' dodge ball team _killed_ Edwin and the boys'). Life was good, and fair, and just-

And yet so, so ruthless.

After recess, the balance between extreme stress and optimism I had been trying to maintain was flicked away. Estelle and I were a bit late coming back to class (multiple traffic jams in the hallway, always on a Friday). The classroom was oddly empty when we came in. I was halfway between the door and my desk, then my feet stilled. With a puzzled tilt of the head and a bent wrist, I pointed at the blackboard and said, "Did I miss something?"

Estelle came through the door herself and twisted to look at the board. "Oh!" She gave an embarrassed laugh. "I completely forgot to tell you. You remember that musical arrangement I told you about?"

I felt the need to gulp at that moment. "Oh bugger." I muttered.

Estelle read the words on the chalkboard aloud. "_'Mr Gerik's class go to music room after recess.'_"

_Blast! _I thought. _Don't tell me I have to put up with this _today_ on top of everything else!_ "So we're going to get tested on this right _now?!_" My eyes were begging Estelle to break it to me gently. It would be so much better if I could somehow convince Estelle (or Edwin, at least) to kill me, then bring me back to life after the General Phantomy examinations were over so I could still go to the show with Mum... Things would be infinitely simpler.

Estelle was quite serious. "Well, if he's in a good mood, this is only the practice and we could get assessed next week."

"And if the Phantom's in a bad one?"

A flash of horror leapt across her face for a moment, and Estelle began to look less confident. "He wouldn't make us improvise on the instruments..." she said shakily. "He's a _Phantom;_ he demands perfection when it comes to music, we should all know- Dana, don't look at me like that!"

_I really should take acting lessons, _I mused. _Ow, my back!_ I had promptly collapsed into the nearest chair, striking a pose that Juliet Capulet would have admired. At the same time I was wailing, "Oh, alas if we shouldeth improv...um... inside hell's fire-"

"Dana!" Estelle scolded. "You're being overdramatic."

"Overdramatic? Never!" I straightened myself and got out of the chair. "I believe the term is _melodramatic,_ my friend. You learn a great number of things when your future stepfather's an actor. Did I tell you that before?"

Estelle sighed. "Yes, you did. Well, I'm guessing we should go to the music room. The teacher's instructions are clear, and he doesn't like it if we don't follow them. So, let's _go_ to the music room already."

"Where our doom awaits." I added.

"The musical arrangement only makes up-"

"Between ten and fifteen percent of our annual school report."

"Ah. So we'd better make haste, right?"

"Smart girl, Estelle."

"Right! We've wasted so much time with useless talk already- Oh, _Dana!_"

I lifted my head and batted my eyelids at her. "What?" Estelle didn't say a word in answer, so I turned my head back to the monkey music box sitting on top of the teacher's desk. "Please, please, please, please, _please-"_

Estelle made a noise between a laugh and a sob. "Dana, quit praying to the monkey and let's GO."

I looked searchingly into the Persian monkey's glass eyes. Its half-smiling expression didn't shift a millimetre. I shrugged and unclasped my hands, getting off my knees and starting follow Estelle through the door of the classroom. But since no one else was in the room with me, I looked over my shoulder and waved. I like to think that the monkey on the barrel organ gave me a private wink without moving its head at all, but that's-

"Hurry up!" Estelle called down the corridor.

* * *

The monkey didn't help me one bit.

Pushing open the door of the music room, with flaking green paint falling off at the first touch, and into the midst of your year seven class is not the best thing to do when it's exam time.

"Sorry, sir." I mumbled with my head down.

The teacher didn't say anything. He stared at us quite fiercely for a moment, then gestured carelessly to some chairs towards the back of the room, as if wishing to forget our lateness. Estelle and I weaved in and out of the rest of the pupils (and some misplaced bass guitars and two drum kits) before we sat down, red-faced.

_Blast it, the monkey owes me. I used time on you in the hope that you would help me with the musical arrangement and now I'm late!_ I cursed in my mind.

I had to pull myself together as a girl nearby whispered to me what I had missed -once again by straying away with my thoughts- of Mr Gerik's explanation. Estelle listened intently as Edwin did the same thing.

What I managed to catch between the Phantom's continuing speech and my classmate's (Was it Ana or Ashley? I couldn't remember properly!) was that we were being divided into groups, and had to use the instruments and sheet music available inside the school music room to put together our own arrangement of a song of our choice.

Ana –or Ashley- stopped for breath and my attention moved to the teacher. He spoke about how he would only provide minimal assistance with instruments, and that we would be assessed and marked by the end of the day. With that, he stepped back with a miniscule, possible sadistic smirk on his lips and let us panic.

I looked to Estelle, my eyes wide. "I'm musically talentless!" I hissed at her.

"Stick with me then." she replied. "If I got us to the music room without getting lost, I can get you through this. There should be something you can do in here. The xylophones and glockenspiels? There's a plentiful supply in the cupboard, plus the larger ones at the back."

As Estelle and I were discussing this, the students in our vicinity had instinctively moved closer to each other, clustering together with brief remarks about the task. The same thing had happened in a few other places in the room, and there were now five unorganised but distinct gatherings of people. Estelle and I had just found our group.

The discussion began immediately. "Alright, who here can play the piano?"

Ana (I was pretty sure it was Ana by now) piped up cheerfully, "I can! Got a keyboard at home and everything." She beamed, looking immensely grateful that she had taken piano lessons as a youngster.

"And acoustic guitar?"

Edwin opened his mouth to volunteer, but a thin, pale boy behind him said, "Shouldn't we find a song first, before we get onto instruments?"

I nodded my agreement with the rest. Someone suggested, with a surplus of giggles, _Avenue Q_, which I had never heard of. A couple of other students recalled the titles of some recent songs they had heard on the radio, but I hadn't heard of them either. My tastes weren't accustomed to modern music...

I suddenly remembered the tickets Mum kept between the pages of her diary. "I know this is really cliché, guys, but how about 'Phantom of the Opera?'"

From the blank looks the rest of my group gave me, I thought it must have sounded like I had spoken utter drivel. But they were only slow to react because what I had said sounded like, "Phannum-thoprah."

One of the boys bent down and hunted through a cupboard. The booklets of sheet music slipped through his gloves until, infuriated with frustration, he tore them off his hands and opened the cupboard doors wider. "Okay, there's only one _Avenue Q_ song and it's quite a soppy one, and none of that stuff the girls wanted." He looked over his shoulder, his one visible eyebrow arched in disgust. "How can you _like_ that teen-girly music, anyway? The things they put on CDs these days..."

I caught my breath and pointed into the cupboard. "There, next to your thumb."

He inclined his head in curiosity and picked up the booklet. After opening it carefully, he smiled in approval and showed the first song to us. "How does 'Think of Me' do you?"

"Do we have the instruments?"

"If we let the piano and violin do the melody and share the chords between the guitars," his smile widened, "we can manage fine."

"I don't remember hearing guitars in that song!"

Estelle was a better listener than I was. "We're being marked on originality and creativity. We can add in or take out as many instruments as we like. It's our own arrangement, right? I was thinking that we get one of the glockenspiels to do a tiny bit of improvisation, during the instrumentals."

I sighed. "Estelle, you're my best friend, but please stop using so much musical jargon! I don't even know which is the xylophone and which is the glockenspiel!"

I felt the air particles move and the skin on my scalp twitched abruptly. I looked at the large shadow on the carpet and thought, _He's behind me, isn't he?_

"The glockenspiel has the metal bars, the xylophone has wooden bars." the Phantom whispered over my shoulder, but loudly for the rest of the group of hear. "I hope that helps."

My shoulders relaxed gradually as Mr Gerik straightened and addressed the entire group. "Good song choice." he noted. "I hope you're up to this." he said, with the irises of his eyes glistening at us.

And like the true ghost that he was, he was gone in a single instant.

_Was that encouragement or a threat?_ I wondered. _Hard to tell; maybe both... _The teacher wasn't the perfect 'Angel of Music' figure today that would come to mind, but he knows his xylophones!

"We need someone to sing." Edwin stated.

I didn't even _think_ of moving or speaking, but neither did anyone else. I looked around, sweeping my eyes across the troupe. Ana was on keyboard; Edwin was on guitar; Estelle on violin... That pale boy was plugging in the bass, and the other Phantom boy was holding drumsticks-

"Wait!" I cried. "How did this happen without me noticing? I'm not _that_ easily distracted, am I...?" My voice trailed off as a part of me realised defeat.

The other part, in contrast, was as defiant as La Carlotta herself. But I was insisting that I _couldn't_ sing, instead of demanding that I would. Ironic world. "But- But I'm musically talentless!" I began. "I can't sing for my life. I croak every time I try! I don't sing, I _croak. _Like a toad! The most disgusting, horrifying, mentally-scarring toad you've ever heard-"

"Let's hear you, then." Ana encouraged.

"I've heard you sing before, Dana." Estelle supplied. "You're not bad."

I gaped at her. "When?" I said suspiciously. "You didn't put a bug in my bathroom, did you?"

Estelle shook her head. "No. You were in the car. It was one of the days your mum drove you home."

I narrowed my eyes at my friend. "Well... People do that sometimes!" I got the sinking feeling that my argument was about to slip downwards. "Sometimes people sing in the car and the shower and when they dry their hair..." I exhaled loudly and muttered angrily, "I'm going to have to sing, aren't I?"

"We can scrap the glockenspiel idea." Estelle mused. Her face lit up with a sudden inspiration. "You can ask Mr Gerik for help!"

I shivered, though I'm not sure why I did. "He can be the best singing teacher in the universe, but he can't make me sound better."

Edwin handed me the booklet. I looked at it in a clueless fashion for a minute, then found the lyrics of the song underneath the bars of music. Ana rushed over to one of the keyboards to play the tune, probably to keep me at the right pitch. _Leroux have mercy! _I thought worriedly.

"_On that day, that not so distant day, when you are-!"_ I stopped. "See, that's where I start croaking. I can't go that high. Wasn't born an opera singer, you know."

"Play it in a lower key."Estelle proposed.

_"And though it's clear, and though it was always clear, that this was never meant to be! If you happen to remember, stop and think of me."_ I broke off. "Well, it's better." I closed my mouth tightly before I could admit that I might be able to do it. Scanning my gaze across the page, I read the rest of the song and the words imprinted themselves on my memory. They really were beautiful lyrics. Not the version of 'Think of Me' I was used to, but very, very nice.

I sucked in a breath. The others were sitting or standing with their instruments and joining Ana in their playing. _"Think of August when the trees were green..."_

* * *

Perhaps, just perhaps, praying to the monkey worked in the end after all.

I had practised the cadenza at the end of the song at least fifty times, but I always croaked or squeaked, or the result was unimpressive.

All too soon the practise time ended and we had to listen to the other performances. No one else did 'Think of Me.' Smart people.

Then the dreaded call came. The dark, smooth voice, "Next, let's have Dana's group."

I saw Ana's hands tremble as she sat at the music room's only piano. The Phantom was watching us with a clipboard on his lap, and he was watching _me_ especially as I neared the finish of the aria. I wasn't sure what he wanted. Did he want me to pull it off like a professional or did he want to hear me crash and burn?_ I_ definitely didn't want to crash and burn.

It seems that I have an extraordinary talent for having long trains of thought during important moments. Initially, I had pondered exactly why I had tried praying to the Persian monkey ,other than to annoy Estelle, of course. Then, during the second verse, I had recalled how the Phantom had used the monkey during my first detention. That subject made its way to the Music of the Night just as I took a breath for, _"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade..."_

And in the nick of time, I found the right thought. _Monkey music box, Music of the Night, USE THE MUSIC!_

Ana and Estelle stopped playing; the drum roll started from behind me... And somewhere inside my memory, the clang of some tiny cymbals sounded. The cymbals started off a rising crescendo from the Music of the Night that was playing in my mind, and I brought my voice up with it. I was screaming and yet not. Did it sound like screaming to them? I have no idea-

The Phantom brought his hands together in a slow clap, and the remainder of the class followed enthusiastically. Estelle slapped me on the back, whispering, "That was spectacular!"

_Merciful Leroux!_ was the first thing that went through my mind. I could hardly believe it myself. No, I couldn't believe it at all! I hadn't just sung that, surely... It could have just been a crazy dream; Almighty Leroux knows I have plenty of those...

"Congratulations." the Phantom said simply, ignoring the marking sheet and pen on his knees. "Dana, you wouldn't like private singing lessons, would you?"

My head snapped up and I blinked frantically. "Begging your pardon, sir?" I asked softly.

His lips curled upward under his black mask. "You have potential, Dana. You all deserve your marks now, I think." He picked up his pen and within ten seconds he held out the sheet. Being the closest to the teacher and assuming myself the leader-like person of the group, I took it.

"Twenty-eight and a half out of thirty marks, guys!" Whoops and cheers erupted after my exclamation.

"Well done, especially you, Dana. For one so inexperienced, a good performance. " Mr Gerik's eyes glinted yet again. "You're sure you don't want lessons, Dana?"

_He's giving me the teacher's pet treatment again. _I shook my head lightly and bobbed a curtsey at the teacher. Looking up with a smile, I swore, "I'm sorry to decline, sir, but all I need is a monkey."

**Well, that was the eighteenth chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it! I figured I've been whinging too much so I'll take this space to thank all of the readers and the reviewers so far! You all make my day. ;)**

**This chapter was partially based on my memories of year seven Music class. We had to do so many of those arrangements... I _have_ sung Phantom of the Opera songs in front of my Music class before, though not 'Think of Me.' Planning to, though. At some point... After the first time my Music teacher heard me sing, I had to insist that I couldn't take Music as an elective because I was musically talentless... And I am, really!**

**Anyway, good day to you and please review if you have time!**

**DarkFlame**


	19. She Who Screams

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay in updates again, but school assignments and tests to study for, my best friend getting extremely depressed-**

**Not really a valid excuse but hey! I couldn't **_**bear**_** to write a chapter about schoolchildren crashing chandeliers to pieces until I had one crash three metres away from me! Yup, went to the Phantom of the Opera musical on Wednesday, sat in the third row, and broke the fourth wall! SQUEEZLE! XD I tripled my autograph collection from two to six in an hour. I met everyone except the man I wanted to meet the most... The Angel of Music can be as elusive as the Opera Ghost...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_**. I can't even catch the fellow at the stage door!**

She Who Screams

Mondays. Curse them to the bottom of the ocean.

I mean, nobody _likes_ them. No one likes Mondays, _no one _at all. Sometimes I feel sorry for the Mondays, but that's always towards Thursday, when Monday is blurred in one's memory yet not so close to being refreshed. When Monday comes round so do the inflexible uniforms of work and school, the labour of house chores, the quiet and grudging toil of 'things to do...' No one likes Mondays.

Least of all the boys in Mr Gerik's class.

As soon as I walked into the classroom, unwary of the day's coming events, I was gripped by the shoulders and stared straight in the eyes. I stiffened in shock; an unrelenting grip of a dying man and the gaze of a lunatic. That definitely woke me up.

"Edwin, let go of me." I suggested gently. _He really never gets this worked up..._ I thought.

"Oh, Dana! I'm so sorry; I thought you were Estelle for a minute."

"Estelle?" I repeated, more than a little startled. "Her bus must be late. Strange, though. She's usually here before I am."

"Just my luck." Edwin breathed.

"Pardon?"

Edwin shook his head, seemingly trying to dislodge the morning fog around his brain. "Sorry, I just really need to talk to her." He glanced quickly down from my eyes to my upper arms. "I should let go of you now." Edwin said thoughtfully.

I nodded agreement. _Logical thinking, Edwin, very smart._ Dropping my schoolbag by my desk and stretching my arms, I said, "So, mind explaining that little thing there?"

He was busy looking over the heads of the other kids in the room. "Huh? My apologies, Dana. There's just a lot going on this morning. Guess- _I speculate_ you'll have to wait and see."

I couldn't help a smug smile. "Brushing up on your language skills for the Phantomy exams?"

Edwin exhaled loudly. "You have no idea how hard this is. And it feels so weird. Not stupid, just odd." In an unexpected move, he bowed low and placed a hasty kiss on my knuckles. "Once again, my apologies for my behaviour."

I stifled a snort with my free hand. "Mr Gerik _will _be impressed." I punched him softly on the shoulder. "Just let the nerves go, mate."

"Nerves? What nerves?" Edwin sat on the corner of my table, swinging his legs. His hands were pale as he gripped the sides of the desk. "We've all got the chandelier practical this morning, Dana."

There was a short twinge somewhere in the pits of my stomach. _School nerves, Dana. _my inner voice reassured. _Automatic nerves for school assessments. It's adrenaline, it'll help you get through it. Just don't let it go over your head-_

"Bugger." I squeaked.

The trap-door unbolted silently, but the Phantom's books and stationery slapped against the surface of the table with astounding force. The entire teacher's desk shuddered, as if waking up from sleep, and every student's head snapped to attention.

Mr Gerik's face was all jovial contentment. A strange look for a Phantom. Not even a sadistic or slightly insane glimmer in his eyes. Highly uncharacteristic of him... But perhaps I could not see it. The black domino mask concealed most of the teacher's face and cast grey shadows across the rest.

"To the hall, children."

No explanation. We didn't really expect one. Half of us had ideas already. In addition, it's the sort of action you come to expect from a Phantom. In the isolated and deceptive environment most have lived in, it doesn't often occur to a Phantom that an explanation is needed. It's follow the Phantom or fall behind.

Leaving our seats, we jogged to catch up to the waving mass of cape, which was already out in the corridor by the time we had all squeezed through the door. Apprehensive whispers instantly erupted.

I looked around for Estelle until a hand slapped onto my shoulder. I jerked and tripped, but the same hand caught my sleeve and yanked me back onto my feet.

"You could have gotten in detention for being late." I told Estelle.

"On a Monday? Never. If you're late on Tuesday or Wednesday, perhaps. But today's a special day. He wouldn't."

"Don't remind me about the first Wednesday." I moaned with a roll of my eyes. "Exciting day, Estelle, absolutely _riveting_."

"You don't say." she said. "Chandeliers will be falling. Falling like _golden snow!_"

I allowed myself a brief smile. "You can't wait, can you?"

"Counting the seconds."

* * *

"Monsieur Gerik..." I piped up. "I'm not sure that I can make sense of this arrangement in the time allowed."

The Phantom stood against the wall behind me, bathed in shadows. "I'm not supposed to help you, Dana. This is a test. There are no specifically incorrect actions, but it would be better if you used a smooth, clean method. Take your time." I could see his teeth when he smiled comfortingly, but in the darkness of the small room, it looked frightening.

_I'm sure it's the thought that matters here, _I thought. _He's acting like a proper teacher. Maybe the Angel of Music persona from Friday hasn't worn off yet. _My concentration returned to the mass of brown rope and pulleys. Was it just my imagination, or was it _tangled_ in a few places?

I was inside a small cupboard-like room, alone with the teacher. The wooden panels that made up the floor and walls were covered in dust. It reminded me of the inside of the roof, when Mum had climbed up a ladder and went up into the ceiling to look for possums. I had heard her muttering loudly as she was crawling across the ceiling above the kitchen, but when I looked up it was only white plasterboard. Such a huge section of the house was hidden. The roof of our house wasn't as interesting as a secret lair, but it certainly made me think for a while.

I was thinking about all of this when I had climbed up the silver ladder, the Phantom calling out our turns from above. The sizeable ladder stood in the centre of the stage, leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling above. The hole in the sky that lead to Heaven? Not quite. It wasn't the same place where the Phantom had demonstrated to us the previous time, so I should have expected the complexity of the mechanics... The demonstration had simplified everything; the system had been completely redesigned. Bleeding school...had to change it...

The boy who had gone before me had already come down, whooping and hissing in triumph. He was certain he had received a high mark for his execution of a chandelier crash. Its remains were already being cleared away to one side of the hall, and my very own chandelier was being raised into position.

Edwin, even though he was nervous himself, had begun an encouraging chant. _"Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!"_

"That was Mr Chaney's favourite thing to say." I had called back happily. The rungs of the ladder were wide; my flat school shoes found little purchase on the metal. With my first step, the ladder had started to wobble, worsening a tiny fraction as I moved upwards. I left the floor and the gathering of classmates (rapidly running out of the way) behind. Within a minute, I was up at the highest point of the ladder and pulled myself through the little wooden door into the chamber.

The cavity in the roof was in complete darkness, save for the strong daylight that came in from the hall. I had looked back out into the hall, feasting my eyes on the chandelier. We were using real ones for the examinations. Smaller than the grand ones we saw in historic/expensively built buildings, and lighter too, but they served their purpose. Each student had their separate one to destroy. It was such a shame. Every chandelier was unique in design. Mine was shaped as an oval, bronze-coloured metal and glass beads in abundance.

And here I am now. Still inside the little cupboard in the space many metres above the stage of the school hall. Still staring grimly at my beautiful bundle of glittering light. And I'm still trying to figure the whole maze of rope and pulleys that criss-crossed above my head and covered part of the floor.

There was a small table next to me. On it laid several tools: A small kitchen knife, pliers, and a pair of garden secateurs. I gripped the torch I had taken from the table in my left hand, shining it onto several sections of the rope. The pulleys seemed to function smoothly, but kept the chandelier in place without any movement. Was there a clamp somewhere?

_The ropes are probably knotted on purpose! _I though resentfully.

I rolled my eyes in the gloom. But of course! The school, in all probability,_ did_ knot up all the ropes. Mr Gerik could even be personally responsible. In fact, I reckoned that some of the pulleys with rope and chain smothering them were decoys...

I inched forward across the floor on my knees and gave a tentative yet firm shove against a mass of rope and metal. It moved. With a barely muted cry of delight and success, I waved my beam of light around.

_That one over there definitely doesn't look right._ I tugged it from its position. A length of rope snaked away from it, and I followed it with my hand until I found another heap. That one was pushed away as well. It seemed like most of the decoy bundles –even the ones that had brackets 'attaching' them to the wooden floor- were connected to each other by rope or chain. It was simply one gigantic, carefully-planned mess!

I cleared the decoys to one side of the cavity, whispering my apologies when one brushed the Phantom's feet. After some time, I had revealed a single lubricated pulley suspended just above my head. A length of chain ran through the pulley, its ends disappearing into a hole in the opposite wall, stretched taut by the weight of my chandelier.

I couldn't help but smile at my efforts in the silence. _The decoys were really a smart distraction, _I mused. I encircled the chain with a dirty, blistered hand. It was covered in faded red velvet, most likely for it to run more smoothly against the pulley without clanging so loudly, but I guessed it increased friction a little bit too. I really had no idea. Velvet versus metal chain...

_Snap out of it, Dana. You haven't crashed it yet._ I took a calming breath, knowing the Phantom was watching me intently from his spot against the wall. No doubt feeling at home dabbling in the greyness of the shadows.

_All right. I'm an Opera Ghost seeking to terrorise the occupants of my opera house. I'm going to bring the chandelier to the floor. How do I cause it to be as difficult for them to make repairs but still be simple for me to do what I want with it?_

_Ah, hang that. Time to crash it._

I sawed away at the velvet with the knife, then snipped at the chain with the secateurs. It was not a thick chain, but strong enough, I supposed, to hold a small chandelier aloft for ten minutes. _One must learn to make do with what one has as an Opera Ghost, _I pondered absently.

All of a sudden the chain broke. The length I had been holding steady while I cut at it flew out of my hand, vanishing into the recesses of the roof. I hope it didn't do any damage. The other cut end spun through the pulley wheel and disappeared somewhere as well. The pulley swung around in the air and hit me on the side of my head.

Rubbing my skull firmly, I squatted down at the trapdoor to catch a glimpse of my chandelier as it fell. With my mouth open in awe, I watched its long descent.

First of all, it was beautiful. I could almost imagine the music that would accompany it. Strings, maybe some wind instruments... The chandelier seemed to sway for a single moment, then in dropped downwards. Similar to the demonstration we'd seen in the last week or two, but then I heard and saw the shatter.

An explosion. A bomb of shining glass. I could envision myself standing underneath it. An oval mountain, slowly getting bigger and bigger... Rings of brass dividing the strings of beads. A cloud where you could see each raindrop, until it breaks apart and escapes from your vision.

A single, solitary second later, the hovering silver cloud is gone and there is only a jagged heap on the ground.

"Wow." I breathed. The remnants were a small mound from where I was, but it was so powerful. There was a scream, from somewhere down below.

_Pull yourself together, Estelle, _I thought cheerfully. _But that was a lovely shriek, my friend, well done._

The darkness of the cupboard-like room felt as if it was closing in around me. The spectacle was over, but the remainder of my class was cheering softly. I felt light-hearted, I felt nice, and happy...

The feeling of being surrounded by shadows strengthened when the Phantom strode quietly up behind me.

"Well done, Dana. A brilliant show of your skills and intelligence." Mr Gerik said, his smooth voice floating around my ears. Minimal praise, but with maximum effect. "Be careful when you go down, and send up the next student."

I nodded. My feet found the top rung of the ladder, and light came to greet me once again. Before my head went below the lip of the trapdoor and I left, I gave a miniscule smile at him. "Thank you, sir. Thank you."

**Wow, I can't believe I just typed over two thousand words about a chandelier. I was going to go into the abduction exams too (first mentioned in Chapter 1) but now I'm tired and I've got to go out shopping anyway. So, next chapter.**

**But seriously, when you're sitting in the third row of the stalls, the chandelier crash at the end of Act I of **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_** Andrew Lloyd Webber musical is **_**BRILLIANT. **_**The one in the current Australian production really is shaped as an oval, and it seemed to come down right on top of me and the people around me before it jerked away to the stage. Scared the lovely lady next to me, but in a good way. I had an AMAZING day. XD**

**Anywho, please review if it pleases you. Any comments from the readers will make my day.  
DarkFlame**


	20. When in a Gondola

**A/N: Last week, got writer's block and was pressed for time. This week, got banned of the computer for half the weekend. So had to do everything today. But sorry for the late update anyway. Next week I'll be at Latin Camp for most of the weekend, so don't expect anything. Next Sunday is also the LAST SYDNEY SHOW of _The Phantom of the Opera_ musical****, so I'll pretty much be in mourning!! :( It goes to New Zealand next, I think, but it's not like you want to know that...**

**Disclaimer: Not owning PotO.**

When in a Gondola

I should have known. Mondays are only a taste of what you'll get during the rest of the week.

"Morning, Dana." Estelle greeted me from her perch on top of her desk.

I swung my bag off my arm, raising an eyebrow. "Estelle, you're smiling. In the morning. You're nervous, aren't you?"

"No I'm not!" she answered.

I would have smiled knowingly or something similar, but when Estelle is nervous it would be wise to be alert as well. "What is it today?"

Estelle looked at me, her eyelid twitching. "Don't turn around, and watch your step."

"What, why?" _Maybe she's gone insane..._ Like Christine Daae-style insane.

"Why? Oh..." Estelle trailed off. "A Phantom could abduct you any minute, you know."

Hints. Always with the hints.

My knees buckled. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Was this a good or a bad thing? I glanced at my wrist, trying to read the time on my watch. How much time did I have to freak out...?

Curses! Not long at all, I found out. The trap-door underneath the teacher's desk swung open. I grabbed my desk and pulled myself into the seat. Estelle launched herself off hers and onto the chair, her blood no doubt racing at the thought of getting caught sitting on her desk like that.

An almost perfect class was ready by the time Mr Gerik had risen from the trap-door. I breathed out a sigh of relief, smiling at the monkey on the music box. Another successful morning of staying in the Phantom's good books.

A box was set down next to the music box on the teacher's desk, and I looked at that with curiosity. It was nothing spectacular, only a box.

The Phantom flashed a smirk through his mask. His teeth shone white for a moment.

"Class, I_ do_ hope you're not afraid of the dark."

The voice the teacher had used sent a shiver up my back. Silky, mysterious, seductive... Oh my. What kind of day was he planning for us?

"Come up and pick a paper out of the box when I call your name." the Phantom said. "Then sit quietly and wait." With a swirl of his cape, he sat down in his chair and started calling names from the roll.

I gulped. Estelle seemed like she was about to faint. Which might actually work out for her in the long term... More marks. Very Ingénue-esque.

I leaned on my hand and thought deeply. Our abduction examinations were on their way. That very day, from the looks of things. Within less than an hour I could be walking through Leroux knows where with a Phantom holding my hand. It could just be to the next room, but so long as I got there, it was an abduction. I so desperately wanted to know I would be abducted by...

Dana, you bloody fool.

Several students had already been called to the desk and picked a slip of paper from the black box. No doubt that piece of paper had a name written on it, and no doubt that was who they would be paired up with for the exams! A Phantom gets an Ingénue. Everyone gets tested in half the time.

Stupid efficient school.

My hands itched to scribble a note to Estelle, so we could conduct our own conversation while the rest of the class stared at their papers.

Within minutes I was staring idly at my own shred of paper, but not one that from the box.

'_Dana, you nuts? Mr Gerik doing our abductions personally? The TEACHER? The PHANTOM? Are you feeling okay today?'_

Why couldn't they have hired some unknown Phantoms for the girls? We're half the school, anyway.

I cursed under my breath. My notion couldn't be that stupid, could it? The teacher could see firsthand our abilities and mark us accordingly. With a pensive groan, I recalled the dream I had had the night before the school year started. Me, a Persian rug, a Phantom-

Well, I suppose today's exam couldn't be completely bad. I sat up straighter and watched the students walk up to the desk and back to their seats, clutching the paper in their hands like it was a cheque for a stupendous amount of money. They were all boys...

_So I'm a piece of paper, am I? _I thought resentfully.

God, I wonder who my partner was?

* * *

Someone's parents must have big dreams for their little boy.

Erik. Can you believe it? _Erik._ Correct spelling and all. You couldn't find a less subtle way to tell the boy.

_ERIK._ Wow. What fantastic luck and irony.

Of course, I knew not his name when I waited for my exam. Mr Khan had been called in to keep us occupied while Mr Gerik no doubt was testing the pairs of students. Two by two, a Phantom and an Ingénue froze in shock as their names were spoken by the messenger, walked shakily to the door, and looked in numb surprise at each other when they converged there. They left, and no one saw them again for many minutes.

I tapped my fingers on the surface of my desk, once again staring at the monkey. Monsieur Khan had started off with a discussion on our Case Studies unit, but somewhere during the morning had drifted off into a thoughtful and exciting recount of his time in Asia and Africa and all the places in between. I was enraptured and attentive all the way, for it was a lot more relaxing than Case Studies!

A girl opened and closed the door quietly, so as not to disturb Mr Khan in his talk. A few eyes drifted to her, but not many. Almost two hours had gone by since the exams had begun, and this girl was not the first to come back. The 

Ingénues who returned from their exams longed to share with their friends, and the other girls yearned equally to hear the story, but no Ingénue-filled gossip session began out of respect for our substitute teacher.

This girl tip-toed up to my desk from behind, and thusly I gave a startled jump when she tapped me twice quickly on the arm.

"You're next. You won't see Mr Gerik, so don't look for him. Just turn right, down the hall to the SSL room." she instructed.

"Thanks, Amy." I murmured weakly. Estelle noticed me getting up and gave me a momentary thumbs-up. My face didn't reshape itself into a smile for her. I just stared blankly.

My hand reached for the doorknob. Another hand eclipsed mine, but quickly retracted to let me open the door. We stepped outside the classroom and into the vinyl corridor. My ballet flats made no noise, all I could hear was the boy's boots as he walked behind me.

Turn right. SSL room... End of the hallway. Not much of an abduction yet.

Before I reached the correct room, my companion pushed open a door on the right of the hall. No doubt he was told to. So I was on my own.

A thin metal plaque reflected the fluorescent light. _SSL. _With a miniscule frown I studied it. _Slow Seductive Leading..._

"Oh, couldn't be more original!" I muttered sardonically to myself. And with that I opened the door with a stern twist of the knob.

It was dark, I realized that at once. The door swung shut behind me and the shadows pounced upon my body. I couldn't even see my own feet. It was just like the lair I found with the throne during sport... Slowly waving my hand in front of me, I tried to find a possible obstruction, a railing, anything that lent solidity to this realm. And to think, not half a metre behind my heels was a school corridor like any other!

Then the lantern rose, as if out of a black pit. But it was the boy, gripping an ornate lantern with the same pale hand that had almost come over mine at the door. His eyes looked golden yellow, but it was only the flame from the wax candle that sat inside the lantern. I could see his arm trembling, and thought that the candle was probably safer than a reservoir of oil.

The glow from the lantern threw both light and shadow upon the floor. The cracks between the flagstones leapt upwards in my vision.

I sucked in a large breath. Alright, he was doing the leading. Whether it's slow or seductive, I would see. Now I just had to walk along and try to look awed yet still remaining confidently pretty.

I tentatively put a slippered foot forward. That seemed to startle him out of his silent daze. The other pale hand was lifted, palm up. I took it gratefully. One wouldn't want to walk around with one's arms by her sides all the time. I widened my eyes a few millimetres, tilted my head to the side, and blinked. The perfect Ingénue face for an abduction examination. Should I be singing something, or was it too early for that? I decided against a somewhat unfitting rendition of _'Think of Me.'_ I hated clichés anyway.

The boy Phantom seemed to have trouble walking backwards, and the path felt like it was an inclination. We were going uphill, but within about ten seconds I felt myself walking downhill. I wasn't so hard for me, but my abductor stumbled 

slightly a few times. His face relaxed when he looked over his shoulder and saw that the sloping ground had ended, but then he noticed the black gondola.

_Oh for the love of Michael Crawford!_ My eyebrows shot up. A gondola? Was there any water here? All this inside the school, and I never noticed.

I could see the boy's lips move in a hushed curse. Nerves, most likely. But strangely I felt none of my exam anxiety, only the adrenaline. I was quite excited, in all honesty...

I took a deep, contented breath. I could see blue water rippling not far away from my toes. Such colour, such richness! It calmed me. Such _blue!_ The lake was lit up by the arrival of candelabras that appeared in the recesses of the walls. I suppressed a merry laugh.

If it had not been a major school exam, I would have run to the boat and scrambled inside. But of course, as a polite and not-so-aware-of-her-surroundings Ingénue, I had to wait for my young Phantom to invite me into it.

He did so reluctantly, looking quite stiff. I could hear his hard breathing in my ear as I passed him to get into the gondola. I heard him fumble and grope around for the pole. Rather than get up and help him, I stayed put and examined the gondola. A pity that a lair is not the same as Venice, but quite close enough!

The water must have been shallow, but it looked lovely. A soft hue of cerulean blue, tinged with green in places. A little strange-looking, but beautiful all the same.

The boat shuddered as we left the bank. _Right, we're up to this part. Look awed, Dana, looked awed._ I clasped my hands on top of my lap and turned in my seat to face the young Phantom. The memory of a cadenza echoed in my mind, but I fought the urge to let a squeak out of my mouth.

All of a sudden the gondola rocked. I saw the expression of terror on his face as the boy fell from his position at the stern of the vessel. The splash sent the gondola bobbing in the water, and the pole rolled off and into the lake. The boy was flailing a lot-

My mouth was open when I hit the water. With a scream getting ready to tear itself from my throat, I fought the panic back. The water was not deep at all, but when I kicked my legs I didn't surge upwards. I wondered why… Something was on top of my legs.

Oh yes. The boat.

I had grasped the side of the boat when I fell out, and I was now on my back in the water, the gondola floating upside down over my legs. I pushed my head and chest out of the water for a moment, straining to look. My upper body fell back down into the water with a smack, but at least I had seen where the boat was. With a well-aimed kick it floated away. I righted myself and stood in the waist-deep water. My partner was nowhere to be seen.

I took a step, slipped and fell face-first back into the lake, scraping my knee against something hard.

Then someone gripped my arm from behind, and I gasped. Water rushed into my mouth, but within a second I was standing again and coughing it out.

"Monsieur Gerik!" I spluttered between heaving coughs. So he had been watching us for the whole time along the course, waiting in the shadows. The teacher's firm hand slapped me gently on the back. I looked around for the boy.

"Sir, I think he is under the boat!" Without another word I wormed out of Mr Gerik's grasp and submerged myself. I blinked, the water stinging my eyes. The lake was clear, and I saw a dark shape near the upturned gondola. I stood up 

again. "He is, sir." I said to the dark, towering figure standing - his cape completely sodden- by me. "But he's not moving much!"

I waded over to the gondola, my hands groping around in the water for the lip. The gondola was too heavy to lift, so I dived down underneath it. The water was deeper here, for some reason. I found the young Phantom and shook his shoulders.

_Holy Webber, he must have swallowed a lot of water._ I tugged him out from under the shadow of the boat. _You'd better not die on me. Your theory exam is tomorrow!_

I slammed a hand onto his back and he fell onto the hull of the black gondola, spitting and coughing up the water. When he recovered he looked up at me, then with surprise at the teacher nearby.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I really am."

"S'okay." I reassured him. "It's fine now." With mild distaste I looked down at the skirt of my uniform. "Though I think Mum might be a little surprised to see me like this when I get off the bus."

**My eyes feel like sponges…**

**I AM A WALRUS!!**

**Yeah. More elaboration in the next chapter. Review if it pleases you.**


	21. She Who Has New Surprises in Store

**A/N: I have **_**finally**_** fallen into temptation...**

**...and named a chapter with a lyric from the Phantom musical. -.-**

**The Sydney season of Phantom of the Opera ended a week ago while I was at Latin Camp, and this morning I FINALLY cried! I woke up and started singing **_**'Down Once More' **_**and continued until the end. Wet tears, real tears, salty tears, tears of sadness and pity. I could hear Roy Weissensteiner's and Anthony Warlow's voices in my head, singing as the Phantom. Sometimes it was Roy, at others it was Anthony... I remembered everything I had experienced and I CRIED.**

**Jeez, my timing is awful. -.-'**

**Anywho. New chapter after two weeks. Enjoy! And thank you to all the readers and reviewers so far; I keep forgetting my common author's courtesy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm too busy to own PotO, or to try getting it.**

She Who Has New Surprises in Store

I prodded Estelle on the shoulder gently. She didn't move or turn to look at me.

"Well?" I hissed impatiently over the noise of the rest of the students in the bus. "How was it?"

Estelle had been one of the final girls to get her exam done. I wanted to hear what she did, whether she had managed to spot Mr Gerik hiding in the shadows beside her or not-

She pivoted to face me and blinked. "It was...weird. But it was so-" She paused, sinking back into her thoughts.

"You were with Edwin, weren't you?" I prompted. "Hah, what irony. You get partnered with one of your best friends. So, how was that?"

Estelle inclined her head. "He acted so oddly. And then he told me that- That..."

The bus jerked to a halt. I looked out of the window. "My stop." I groaned. Turning back to Estelle, I vowed, "You're telling me tomorrow, alright?"

Estelle appeared to relax and regain her old lively spirit. "Goodbye, Dana. And good luck with the exam tomorrow."

* * *

I don't how to classify Mum's facial expression when I trudged off the school bus and up the front path. A sick leave day had resulted in her staying at home, in the prime position for seeing me in my state of wetness. She had been sitting on the doorstep, enjoying the breeze and a cup of tea...

"The stupid underskirts on the dress won't dry." I explained to her.

Mum nodded numbly. Her eyes flickered, and for a moment the hand holding the tea trembled. She slapped her thigh, and let loose an almighty shriek of laughter.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I had a hunch she wouldn't be angry with me, but I wasn't quite sure.

_And now, _I thought, _I need to deal with a mother who is laughing maniacally on the front doorstep._

"How's the cold?" I asked, in hopes of distracting her.

"Better, better." she replied happily. "And _you'd_ better get inside before you catch a cold as well." She was pointing at the damp pink skirt of my dress, sitting idly in its own little pool of water around my feet. "It wouldn't do to have us_ both_ sick and coughing all through the show on Sunday! What would Charles say?"

My face lit up at the mention of the performance. "It wasn't my fault, just so you know." I informed her, striding up the rest of the path and sitting down next to her. "It was the Phantom's; I had _nothing_ at all to do with it."

Mum's hand flew to her mouth, and the giggling immediately silenced. "Oh, how was your exam today? The abduction, wasn't it?"

I nodded confirmation. "It was...weird." I echoed Estelle's words. "But nice as well. Very pretty."

Mum put an arm around me. "And how did you end up all wet?"

I could not help but smile at the memory, although the experience hadn't been pleasant. "It was in the gondola. My Phantom fell off the stern. The boat rocked, and I went into the drink as well."

I could hear Mum snickering again. "You know what?" she said. "I'll tell you _my_ embarrassing abduction story." She shifted position, putting the teacup down. "It was in the last year of high school. Our final abduction exam, for the High School Certificate, you understand. I was lumped with this shocker of a Phantom. He was as thin as a palm tree, but he had the most amazing golden eyes.

"And you know what he did when the horse came along? He was supposed to lift me up onto it, everyone knows that. Well, he took me by the waist, heaved me up like a set of weights- And then he dropped me, just like a set of weights.

"I fell, crashed on top of the poor fellow and pinned him to the ground. The horse bolted, of course." Mum shook her head. "It took the teachers a while to get it back for the next pair. Not the best thing to do in your HSC exam, you know."

"Wow. There was a horse?" My eyes widened. "How did your mark turn out?"

At this my mum laughed and took another sip of tea. "I aced it! Well, almost aced it. They teachers marking me thought it hadn't been my fault he dropped me, so I didn't cop is as bad as you might think. It pays to be in the teachers' good books, but I'm not in any way condoning bribery and corruption." Mum wagged a finger at me. "And I'll have you know, I was not overweight at the age of seventeen!"

"I know you weren't, Mum." I surveyed the street blithely. "But I'm _wet._ I've got to dry this dress, and I've got school tomorrow, and-" I stopped short. "And my theory exam!" I leapt up and shoved the front door open. "See you, Mum; gone to study; sorry!"

I could swear I heard her muttering behind me, "You know, I was going to offer to wash that school dress before you got the floor wet, too."

* * *

The morning was filled with anxiety and adrenaline. The envelope on my desk did nothing to calm my nerves. I eyed it suspiciously, eventually gathering the courage to pick it up and look inside.

_I'm sorry about what I did yesterday. Can you forgive me? I'll take you to the Ball Masque to make it up, if you'll accept me._

_Erik_

I lowered the note from my face and searched the room. I found Erik sitting at his desk, but he looked quickly away. I raised an eyebrow, about to call a question to him-

_Oh BUGGER, _I thought absently. _Oh this is just what I need. A major examination, a weird kid attempting to ask me out, and now the teacher's here!_

For the _first_ time since the beginning of the school year, the class had not been rowdy prior to the teacher's entrance. We had all been seated, perfectly silent. The air could have been sliced to pieces, so thick with our breath it was.

I watched Mr Gerik walk down the aisles and place exam papers on each desk. His dark brown cape went past with a whoosh, and I was left staring at the paper on my desk, my arms stiff by my side. My mind whirled with the memory of historic dates, names, and the theoretic guidelines to life...

I lifted my head to look at the teacher. "When I say so, turn over your tests and begin." The Phantom sat casually at his desk, and all watched him nod at us.

I flipped the exam over, my eyes searching hungrily for the first question.

'_Empathy task: Extended response. Write a note to the manager/s of the opera house as an Opera Ghost. Use appropriate length. 5 marks.'_

I willed my mind to calm itself. I couldn't do the exam while it was as turbulent as a crowd of rioters! All right. Should I follow the example of past Opera Ghost notes or be creative? Oh, the clock on the wall was ticking so loudly...

_Oh for the love of Michael Crawford, I need to concentrate!_ I looked up at the monkey on Mr Gerik's desk, looked into its glass eyes, then put my head back down. I began to scrawl across the black lines.

_I hope this note finds you all in good health. The performance last evening was not one of this Opera's best, I must say. Do not fool yourselves into thinking I did not notice the stage-hand getting caught in the stage lights. That, messieurs, is a disgraceful show of incompetence. I expected better from one trained for so long. It appears once again that..._

I stopped writing and thought for a few seconds, resolving to score out the last phrase.

_And have you not yet sacked that tenor in the chorus as I have demanded? He is a toad_-I smiled faintly at this, recalling my own singing experiences-_ among nightingales._

_Also still in my opera house is Signora Carlotta. Gentlemen, rid yourselves now of an infuriating wart-_

Hmm. Should I continue with the Carlotta rant? The note was getting quite long. Short, polite, yet demanding seemed to be the norm for notes such as this. On the other hand, I might earn more marks if I showed I had actually learned something from History and Case Studies. I drew a line through the word 'wart.'

_...pebble in your shoes and for the love of all that is sacred, send her to London for a permanent holiday._

_Your obedient servant,  
O.G._

Should I have capitalized 'obedient servant?' No, it looked fine the way it was. A hasty glance at the clock reminded me that there was a time limit. Next question!

'_Case Studies: Knowledge and Reasoning. From the 1943 tale of__ Erique__ Claudin and Christine Dubois, what conclusion can we come to? 3 marks.'_

Oh my god, my brain just died at that moment. My mind was blank. I blinked at the page, read the question again. When I could think of nothing, I started to panic. Leave the question and move on? We were supposed to attempt each question; how many marks would I lose if I couldn't get back to it...?

Like a flash of lightning from a storm, I came up with something. It wasn't brilliant, but it was something.

_From this part of history we can conclude that it is very difficult to choose between men. Dubois had three suitors, Erique Claudin, Raoul-_

Oh dear, what was his surname?! I was pretty sure this Raoul hadn't been a _de Chagny..._

_-D'Aubert, and Anatole Garron. History fails to document which of these three married Christine Dubois, or if she married at all._

I sighed heavily. All right, what next? _Bring it on, _I thought. _What have you got for me? _Oh, what a morning it had been so far. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet!

_What new surprises are in store?_

**Cliché ending line, I know, and a shorter chapter than usual. By five hundred words, at the very least. Sorry, everyone. Considering I only spent a couple of hours on it. I'm busy packing for a holiday, and complaining that I didn't see the last four Sydney Phantom shows because I was AT LATIN CAMP ALL WEEKEND! I'm still rather upset, as you can see.**

**While I was at Latin Camp, however, I met a boy with a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt (though I do better asking PotO cast members for autographs than talking to boys)! There was also a lovely bushwalk, and I've already written a fanfiction involving the parallels between Ancient Greek/Roman mythology and _The Phantom of the Opera. _(Shameless plugging... Go and read 'The Angel Down in Hell' if you're interested. I'd like to get come critique on that story, since I'm not at all pleased with it.)**

**Review if it pleases you, and please do because I CRAVE constructive criticism! I didn't read over this at all, so please point out any mistakes so I can amend them accordingly and thank you!**

**Your hormonally-imbalanced authoress,  
DarkFlame**


	22. Curtain Call

**A/N: I was on holiday. That's why I didn't update. So a really really really long chapter this time! The next one will be a hell of a lot shorter, since it's sort of a prologue to the next stage of the story. You know how all the chapters so far seem to have almost no relation to each other at all? Well –hopefully- I'll be able to gather all of the strings together.**

**What am I doing telling you about my plot?! Argh, I'm writing the author's note after the chapter, and I'm exhausted! I didn't want to bore you with ranting about the performance, but somehow I wrote four thousand words about I have no idea what…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera, but this chappie is partially based on my own experiences. I'm not telling you which parts…**

Curtain Call

Friday that week, I was -once again- staring dazedly at the piece of white A4 paper sitting flat on my desk. The letters looked like black ants and worms, all thrown haphazardly upon the sheet. Tiny black scribbles, blurry, as if someone had abruptly smashed their palm upon them the paper and ended the creatures' miniscule existence.

I sighed softly. A Phantom's handwriting, like a child's. And both Mum and Mr Chaney back in primary school complained _my_ penmanship was dreadful!

It was a mighty task to decipher to contents of the "Teacher's Comments" column on the marking sheet. I had to lean over the aisle between the tables and ask Estelle for help on several words that looked like, _"flurgle."_

I looked up from my desk a few times, to see if Mr Gerik could tell me what he had written, but I always turned my head back down. It was hard, but not worth asking the teacher. Call it pride, stubborn pride if you will.

I managed it...by the time I got home.

* * *

"Mum!" I poked my head into the kitchen.

"Living room!" she called back.

I spun around and marched across the hall and into the living room. "Mum, you know how you got really good marks for your abduction in your last year of high school because the teachers liked you and didn't want you to fail completely?" I blurted it all out, without taking a breath. It was that important.

She looked up from her book. A white knuckle roller-coaster ride romantic comedy thriller, she called it. I told her that it was probably a grammatically incorrect description, and a lie, but she never does listen... "The 'dropping me like a set of weights' story? What about that story?"

I held out my copy of the General Phantomy exam results with a stiff arm. "Reports came back today." I mumbled.

Mum closed the book and placed it on her lap, lazily reaching an arm out to take the sheet. She squinted at the words. "_Flaming violins,_ the man writes worse than Charles!"

I rolled my eyes in agreement, a knowing smile on my lips. "Men."

"The theory exam was two days ago, wasn't it? _'Dana is well-learned in History and Case Studies. Her written responses are of acceptable quality; her concepts and ideas are creative yet sound in reasoning. She may need to learn to keep her sentences from becoming incoherent.'"_ Mum read out. "Your teacher has a habit of using long words." she noted. Mum stabbed a finger down on the paper. "_'Becoming incoherent.' _And I always said you talked too much for your own good!

"Music exam..." Mum continued. "'_Theoretical knowledge of music needs to be exercised more._ _A very good voice; encouraged to take formal lessons.'_" Her left eyebrow was arched in a quizzical expression, directed mercilessly toward me. "You were that good, eh?"

I brought my arms up defensively. "Don't make me sing HERE! I'm at home; no one should be asking me to sing while I'm at home." I lowered my hands slowly. "But yes... I _was_ good, wasn't I?" I said after some contemplation, smirking.

She ignored me. "Your chandelier crash! They're letting you do that now? _'Excellent. Dana proves herself to have a sharp mind and,_" Mum's face took on a sly look,_ "a taste for style.'_"

I shrugged good-naturedly. "What can I say? I'm good. Darn good."

"Ah, dancing!" Mum's face lit up.

Slapping a palm to my face, I groaned, "Oh no. Not Madame Giry's sports class."

"'_The girl has a natural talent to forget what the steps are called. Fortunately this does not extend to Dana's practical execution. Her stamina has improved greatly since the beginning of the term.' _Oh, she's got a sharp tongue, hasn't she? We are kindred spirits, I believe."

"Mu-um!"

She was suddenly taken aback. "Dana, your abduction examination!" Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Ninety-five percent?!"

"Ninety-five percent?" I echoed. "I though it said ninety-three!" I rushed to look over my mother's shoulder.

"No, it's a five. Take it from me, darling, that's a five. Your Mr Gerik obviously doesn't make the horizontal dash at the top of the five very distinctive. Charles writes his fives with a little upward loop on the bottom, and his threes are totally out of proportion... _'Shows great calm-'_"

"That'd be the part where we fall out of the gondola." I interjected.

"'_-and keeps her wits about her. Dana has good footwork and is in great form.'_" Mum finished reading and put the paper down. "Wow. You _are_ good."

"Teacher's pet, I reckon." I replied dryly. But my inner voice –which is usually less witty and more intelligent than my mouth- said, _Come on Dana, being teacher's pet isn't that bad, is it? I thought we already covered this subject! Don't you go and do all the mental gymnastics again._

"I know it's not that honest..." Mum bit her lip. "Oh well. What are marks in comparison to the rest of your life? This ninety-five percent is just to look good on your record, and only for the rest of high school. _Move on and keep going_, right? That's always been our motto."

I smirked. "That, plus _whoever_ _gets to the cheesecake first takes all_."

Mum's face blanched, just a little bit. "I thought that cheesecake was hidden out of sight!" she muttered.

I shouted over my shoulder as I ran to the kitchen, "Wrong!"

* * *

"Boring night, huh?" Mum asked as she leaned against the doorjamb of my bedroom.

I shut the book I was reading. "Friday with no homework. You'd think there'd be some decent television on."

"Just came by to say congratulations on your General Phantomy." Mum said cheerily. "I know you worked hard. And don't you stay up too late, mark my words." Her eyes shone in the lamplight. "Don't want to fall asleep in the middle of Act One, do you?"

I gave a little shriek. _I can't believe I forgot about that!_ "Mum! Now I'll never be able to sleep!" I knocked the desk with my elbow in my agitated state, and the novel tumbled onto the floor with a heavy thud.

"Light off. Sleep as best as you can. I won't tell you that we're sitting in the front row thanks to Charles, because that would just make you more restless."

I squealed again, falling out of my chair. I scrambled back onto my feet as Mum snickered. With a slam of the door and a loud, "Goodnight!" the room was plunged into pitch black.

* * *

I stretched my legs out in front of me. My neck was bent back as I stared up in awe at the ceiling of The Grand Theatre. Every now and then a surge of adrenaline would strike me, and my legs would kick spasmodically.

My mother, it has to be said, was even worse. The program of the show was held firmly to her body, and every few minutes she would flick through the pages and point out Charles' name to me with a few hushed, hasty words. Then the program book would return to its position sandwiched between her forearms and chest.

_If paper had lungs... _I mused as I watched her.

"You don't want a drink, Dana?" she asked me. "Hungry? You've been to the toilet, haven't you?"

"I'm fine, Mum."

"Good. Because I won't have either of us running out in the middle of the act. You've got to hang in there at least until the intermission."

_It is good manners, after all, _I agreed silently. My legs gave another twitch as the lights in the theatre dimmed. I could see Mum's dark shape as she bent almost double in her seat, still hugging the program to her. "Mum, you're about to say something obvious like, 'It's starting,' aren't you?"

Mum's head nodded. "It's starting!" she wheezed.

I turned my attention to the stage, no more than three paces away from me. _And I thought _she_ was the level-headed one!_

The last of the audience members shuffled to their seats. In absolute silence, the theatre doors closed. If you were late, then bad, _bad_ luck. The ushers stepped out, and the staff collectively nick-named 'shushers' stepped in.

Well, no one likes it when a person snores or coughs or sneezes or talks in the middle of a show!

I flinched as Mum gripped my hand. A spotlight grew at a point on the stage. The auctioneer's gavel pounded upon wood. A strongly-emphasised and lilting voice floated out over the audience in the stalls.

"_Sold! Your number, sir? Thank you..."_

Your body does strange and weird things when you're sitting in the front row.

The chandelier was uncovered with a streak of sparks, and the first chord of the organ sent my knees wobbling. The sounds made me feel like I was rolling around in nothing but darkness and music.

The chandelier began to rise, slowly, ever so slowly... Every head craned to watch its ascent as it came directly over our heads. I think I spotted a dribble of saliva at the corner of Mum's mouth...

My thoughts, I must admit, were in utter turmoil.

"But please promise me that sometimes, you will think…"

_Oh mon dieu, she's divine!_

"I have brought you, to the seat of sweet music's throne!"

_What _has_ the make-up department done to Charles?_

And much later, a rather uncouth mental exclamation for Don Atillio's sustained note during 'Il Muto.' I am certain at least one of my schoolteachers would scold me for it for whatever reason, but if not me, then who will appreciate a good singer?

"I shall not leave but hide over _there_ to observe he-e-e-e-e-e-r."

_He is bloody awesome._

"Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!"

Of course, everyone in the Grand Circle was waiting for that moment in the scene. A spotlight fell onto the Phantom's face at the corner of the proscenium, grinning and white as he shouted the line. Then as unexpectedly as he appeared, his pale face vanished.

Mum prodded me on the shoulder. She had the, 'That's my fiancée!' look on her. Her beam was equal in manic glee to the Phantom's, whose hysterical laughter boomed through the theatre. Carlotta ran to the front of the stage and croaked at us, her eyes and mouth wide.

The entire audience was silent as Christine and Raoul -who I thought had very nice voice- ran into the rooftop scene. I sighed quietly and sank deeper into my seat as the song began. Oh, it was such a lovely song... Made me all soft and light inside. _Note to self: Play 'All I Ask of You' at next attempt at meditation._

"Christine!"

My eyebrows arched as Raoul picked up Christine and spun her around. _I didn't think he had enough strength to do that, but wow! Note to self: Blackmail Charles to try doing that for Mum. It looks fun._

I gulped involuntarily when the angel statue lowered. I heard asmall shuffle, and with a quick glance to the side I saw the shadowy shape of the shushers handing out packets of tissues.

Mum leaned over my lap, her hand groping recklessly for our bag. "Come prepared," she had said. "Bring your own tissues, because the shushers never get to everyone in time, especially the people in the middle of the row." She had not taken her eyes off Charles up in the statue, who was busy lamenting for his lost Christine.

I snatched the tissues back from Mum, bringing one up to my face in readiness.

_I love this part, _I thought, and sniffled.

* * *

"How was that, eh?" Mum asked me excitedly.

My hands gripped the armrests of my seat. My mouth shook itself open. "Br- Brilliant!" I breathed.

Mum grinned while she watched the fragmented chandelier get pulled back into position. The lights were back on, but only a few people left the theatreduring the interval. "I'm so proud of Charles!" she said. "That was wonderful crashing, but of course-"

"Of course, you're biased." I finished for her. I tilted my head in thought. "I actually think that Raoul wasn't bad during that scene at all. Call me crazy-"

Mum smiled. "You're not, Dana. Different men for different girls. Let's see if I can find his name in the program…"

"Kyle Raithren." I read over Mum's arm. "He's the understudy for almost every male role! Impressive."

Mum gave me a sidelong glance. "Oh, I can see you're getting your first actor obsession!"

"What?" I answered dumbly.

I received no reply. The lights went out, the shushers stood to attention, and two skeletons tiptoed onto the stage. The black stage glittered, and I entered a Textile student's heaven.

I wanted to clap my hands and giggle until kingdom come. The costume detail, oh, the costume detail, THANK YOU CHARLES! My eyes drank in every performer in their dazzling clothes, wanting to imprint each picture in my mind. Oh, I'd better draw those when I get home…

"Drink it in, drink it up till you've drowned, in the light, in the sound-"

And I did exactly that. I'd died and gone to heaven; definitely my favourite part. Then my shoulders shivered as the chords began.

_I _really _mustn't get Mum overexcited! _I thought to myself. I could see her face in the backwash of the spotlights. The, 'Isn't this the most amazing thing you've ever seen?' expression came first, then the maniacal, 'Go, Charles, go!'

"I advise you to comply; my instructions should be clear. Remember there are worse things than a shattered chandelier!"

I tensed. Mum looked like she was about to spring up and cheer. The Opera Ghost creepiness was giving her a kick her self-control might not be able to handle. The shushers would pounce, drag her down, and there goes the Saturday…

Amazingly, she survived the scene without a peep. I did as well, but only barely.

But thehard part was far from over.

* * *

"Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair!"

I sought my mother's hand for comfort. My chest was heaving, my lower lip was trembling and only my closed lips fought back the whimpers that struggled to escape my throat. All I was missing was the tears. I had been pulling and plucking at my eyelashes since 'Wandering Child,' but no tears had come yet! I was still a train wreck, though, and Mum was in no better condition.

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome…!"

My eyes widened. Did Charles just wink at us as he strode around the throne to pick up the red lasso?!

A lopsided smile pulled itself across my face. _Cheeky._

Unfortunately, smiling weakens the power of closed lips against hysterical, sobbing whimpers. And those whimpers were strong! They'd been building up ever since 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,' and they burst explosively through the front line of the opposing force.

"Eep!"

I didn't even have to think about covering my mouth; both my hands flew up automatically. My gaze darted from side to side. No shushers. _No shushers?_ _Oh, I'm safe. They didn't hear me. Thank Michael Crawford!_

My attention returned to the stage. _Oh, poor Kyle Raithren strung up in the noose. Oh my, is Tania McKady crying? What an incredible Christine! Ah, Charles, don't you dare turn around and wink at us again. This is the most important scene!_

A theatre full of eyes followed every movement as a short girl with blonde hair crawled under the lattice, took off her hat, walked over to the dark throne, and with a _whoosh!_ of black fabric, removed the Phantom's final concealment. With an awed and thoughtful expression frozen onto her pale face, she turned her head up to the lights and on her knees, faded out of sight to the sound of applause.

The lights returned abruptly. A crowd of what must have been hundreds exploded into movement and sound. Never have I witnessed such a flurry of hands, and such endurance to keep clapping! One by one the singers and actors strode onto the stage for the curtain call.

My skin prickled when I knew Kyle Raithren as Raoul would walk on. I cast away all mental debate. My leg muscles contracted, then relaxed. I was standing up. I started my standing ovation the moment he entered the light with his arms in the air. He expected an applauding audience, but he saw a girl in a white dress in the front row standing in the middle of a sea of seated people.

I don't think he minded that much.

A moment of shock passed over his face, but then his smile returned and it was even wider than before. He moved to the side with the rest of the cast for Tania McKady to receive her applause, but his eyes stayed on me.

_Dana, you're still standing up, _a distant voice in my head hissed. _And you're in the front row!_

I hiccupped. _Oh._

But suddenly, I was no longer the only one giving the cast a standing ovation. Mum was standing, clapping, and cheering like there was no tomorrow.

Charles had his mask back on. As he strode the length of the stage to the front, he spotted both of us giving standing ovations in the front row (and blocking the view of everyone behind us). His smile was genuine; that was obvious even with a mask hiding half his face. He waved a hand appreciatively at us.

"That's my fiancée!" Mum shouted, and this time aloud.

I beamed back at him. _Goodbye, fourth wall._

Many rises and falls of the red curtains later, the orchestra started up again with an instrumental medley and I at last fell back into my seat.

"It's over, huh?"

Mum did the most unexpected thing I could think of, except for perhaps eating her program. She shook her head.

"It's…not over?"

"I'm taking you to the stage door." she said firmly. "It's time you learned the secret about actors." Mum bent down looked me in the eye. With a glance behind to make sure no one was eavesdropping, she whispered to me, "They can't run very fast if they haven't rehearsed it!"

I stared back at her. After a silence, "Mum, why do you always have to talk so cryptically?"

"Just follow me, and don't get lost!"

* * *

"MR DANEKKER!"

Charles froze where he stood, with the glass door swinging slowly behind him. The Phantom costume was gone and replaced by a t-shirt that said, 'TENORS RULE,' but they still recognized him. He looked at the scene that was before him for half a second, and then adjusted his posture for a sprint. He took a step, then another, and stumbled. Mum was absolutely correct. Actors can not run with rehearsing it. So if you catch them by surprise… In his moment of weakness, the throng of fans swarmed and attacked.

"Mr Danekker, sir! If it's not too much- If you don't- I mean, if-"

Mum pointed discreetly, whispering to me. "See, that's what happens if you're not prepared. You get tongue-tied. She's trying to say, 'If it's not too much trouble,' and, 'If you don't mind,' at exactly at the same time."

I nodded with understanding. _So this is The Grand Theatre Stage Door. Interesting._

Charles didn't put up much of a fight against the fans. "One at a time, everyone." he announced with a laugh. "We've got all the time in the world. Now, what's your name?"

I prodded Mum's shoulder. "Aren't you going to steal him back?"

"What? Nah. They're fans. They live for him. Why crush their dreams?"

They were all different ages. Some had boyfriends, who stood about ten metres away and grumbled. One, however, was twirling a silver pen in his left hand.

Tania McKady, the rising star of the season, walked out of the theatre with some orchestra members. At once she was gawked at by the boys. One sprang forward boldly, stopping by Charles to steal his girlfriend's program and making his way to the soprano.

"Autographs." I noted. "They all want autographs."

Fishing in her bag, Mum took out a permanent marker and thrust it into my hand. "This, Dana, is a silver Sharpie permanent marker. Use it wisely." Without another word to me, she gave me handed over the program of the show we had bought and sauntered over to Charles, still surrounded by clamouring fans.

"Hey, woman on first name basis coming through!"

I was left alone. The fans would rip me apart if they thought I was pushing in line for Charles' autograph; Tania McKady seemed to have enough men fighting for her even without a Raoul de Chagny and a Phantom.

The stage door opened again. I noticed the movement out of the corner of my eye, and saw a young man walk out. That hair, those hands…

"Mr Raithren!" I cried. _Unleash the inner phan, Dana!_ I jogged to him. "Are you in a hurry, sir?"

"Not at all." He inclined his head. "You were in the front row, weren't you?"

I bowed my head and laughed sheepishly. "That was me." I admitted. "Couldn't help it. You made me _like_ Raoul!"

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

I held out the pen and the program. "Do you mind autographing my program?" I asked shakily.

Kyle Raithren took both items and started scrawling on the page with his photo and short biography.

"You're the understudy for almost every male role, aren't you?" I said conversationally.

"I am. It's the new system. Only been introduced this season." He blew on the ink for it to dry and handed it back to me with a wink. "To be fair to all of the actors, everyone rotates in the roles. Charles- You know, the Phantom?"

"He's going to be my stepdad." I said matter-of-factly.

"Is he now?" Kyle looked over at Charles and his fangirls. "Well, he got first draw for the Phantom. Tomorrow he'll be back in the ensemble. A much humbler role, but he doesn't act as if he minds. I've got heaps of rehearsing to do." Kyle bit his lip. "I'm playing the Phantom at the next show."

I was stunned into silence for a moment, stuck for words. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's going to be tough, but I'm up for the work." Kyle shook himself out of his daze, shooting me another smile. "Well, it was nice to meet the lovely girl who gave me my first standing ovation, and my first stage door signing. It looks like you could be here a while longer, though." He glanced again at Charles' fans. Most were hugging and kissing their programs where he had signed it, conversing with their friends and fellows.

I took a deep breath. I thrust up my arm, extending my index finger and giving a loud yell. "HEY! It's the guy who's playing the Phantom at the next show!"

All of their heads looked up and turned towards me. They noticed Kyle Raithren next, who was standing, stunned just like Charles had been and completely vulnerable.

"HEY! IT'S THE GUY WHO'S PLAYING THE PHANTOM AT THE NEXT SHOW!" one of them shouted, repeating my words exactly.

The crowd around Charles dispersed within a few seconds. The final girl received her autograph and with a rushed, "Thank you, Mr Danekker!" she ran backwards to Kyle Raithren while still waving to Charles.

"Run!" Charles hissed at Mum, and she obeyed with a shrill laugh. I made to follow, since there was no way I could get home without them in the front seat of the car, but I turned around just for another moment.

Kyle Raithren winked, beamed, and mouthed silent thanks. I waved back, before sprinting my hardest to catch up to Mum and Charles.

**Partially based upon my own experiences. I won't tell you which parts, because it's too embarrassing. I apologise if this chapter is absolute drivel, because I was tired and really not concentrating and my mum was yelling for me to go and study… I've got at least four major exams in a few weeks, all within eight days of each other. So expect a short chapter to follow this one! And if you find any mistakes in this one, please tell me. I feel so ashamed of this chapter, but I'm too lazy to go and read all 4007 words of it! -.-**

**Random trivial ranting: One of my old school mates is obsessed with the leading Raoul in the current Aussie/New Zealand production. The Sydney season was really and eventful one. It began with the lead Phantom, Anthony Warlow, sick a lot of the time. So the two covers, Simon Pryce and Roy Weissensteiner, took over a lot of the shows. At some point Anthony got better and did some extra shows. Then towards the end of the season Roy injured himself, and somehow Alexander (who was understudy for the Phantom) went up the ladder and impressed everyone with his performance as the Phantom! I can't believe I didn't see that... Go, boys, go!**


	23. She Who Daydreams

**A/N: Right, I managed to squeeze this in before my Maths yearly exam tomorrow. Extremely short, like a prologue to the next stage. The rest of the story will be comprised of shorter chapters too, because I want to make them quality chapters and to draw out the ending.**

**Warning about the massive sections of italics in this chapter... I feel so guilty for putting it in (bad writing technique) but I couldn't find another way to distinguish it from the rest. .'**

**And now for some subliminal messaging... SEND CONTRUCTIVE CRITICISM; SEND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM-**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, form, or parallel universe.**

She Who Daydreams

_You're doing it again, _the voice sings.

I blinked quickly and look away from the window. My gaze fell onto the open pages of the diary on my lap. One of the pages had a few phrases scribbled over the top third, but the rest was smudged with dirt and grease from the skin of hands.

I sighed, and brought the pen down upon the paper.

'_I haven't written in here since the beginning of the school year. The first three terms were hectic (detention, exams, swimming pools and magical thrones, and all that jazz) and in the school holidays I keep forgetting about it. And here I am almost at the end of Term 4._

'_Well, before then a lot of things have happened._

' _Mum and Charles found a date for their wedding: The New Year. That's right, the New Year Bal Masque. I'm not sure how it will go, but I am certain it shall be...interesting and eventful._

'_Of course, the end of the school year is coming. There was a note that got sent home last week, regarding the school's Christmas Masquerade. Technically it's not celebrating Christmas; it's only for the kids because we aren't really allowed to go the gigantic community New Year Masquerade. And if we do we have to get out by nine. Poor babysitters, missing out on all of it. The adults stay until late, counting down for the New Year._

'_The New Year Masquerade is longer, louder...and decidedly more drunk._

'_So all the schools in the city are holding their own Bal Masque. St Gerik's is on a Friday evening, twelve days before Christmas. Even though it's not really for Christmas-'_

The pen flew out of my fingers when I jumped. A pigeon had collided with my bedroom window, and I took a moment to leave my seat and peer out through it. I didn't see anything, and now my pen was lost.

Groping and prodding into places, I found it covered in dust under my bed. Completely ignoring this, I continued.

'_I'm supposed to be writing about what happened before this moment, not the things that are about to occur. Well, I finally accepted Mr Gerik's proffered singing lessons, if that's anything of great import._

'_I can sing "Think of Me" much better now, but I still can't tell the difference between a note that goes for half a beat and one that goes for a quarter. I can't even remember what they're called by the end of the lesson. Being a typical Phantom, Mr Gerik got frustrated with this for a while, but recently he's let my ignorance lie idle and spending more time on singing technique. Which I welcome gratefully! He knows that I'll have to face it next year as a subject. I can drop Music in the tenth grade... But I'm not sure if I will. I mean, it helps my singing, doesn't it?_

'_It's still a little unnerving when I have to stay behind after school on Wednesdays for the lessons, because I'm all alone with him. Even though I'm pretty sure he won't lose his temper at me unless I do something stupid like knock his mask off, and I'm CERTAIN that Mr Khan cut the Punjab into pieces already... I have to remind myself that it's going to be nothing like the detentions I had at the beginning of the year, and the strange dream I had before that.'_

"Dana!" My mother's call floated up the stairs. "Dinner's ready!"

'_Music aside, I'm definitely taking Textiles for my elective next year. I can't help but plan out combinations of clothes and designs. And I have a LOT of inspiration from the performance of "The Phantom of the Opera" I went to with Mum. Kyle "Raoul" Raithren's autograph is in the program, which Mum and I share. One week in my room, one week in hers. Sometimes she gets all giggly over the memory as if she was a young ingénue again, and she's proud of me for getting that autograph._

'_The season ended a while ago. Charles has gone on to other productions, doing well. He and Mum are busy on the weekends, preparing for the wedding. But of course, my Bal Masque comes about three weeks before that, so tomorrow Mum is taking me shopping. I have no idea what I'm going to wear..._

'_Wow. A year ago I never would have said something like that, or thought it, or written it._

'_I'M TURNING INTO A GIRL!!'_

"Dana!" Mum yelled forcefully. "What are you doing up there?"

"I'm coming!" I shout back. My eyes fall onto the clock on my desk, and I stare at it in surprise for a few seconds. "It was four thirty when I sat down to write." I muttered to myself. "Now it's six forty-five! What have I been doing?"

Mindful of dinner waiting, I bent over and scribbled some closing paragraphs onto the paper.

'_The entire year seems like a dream. It doesn't feel so long ago that I first walked into that classroom._

'_Have I been daydreaming all this time?'_

**I REALLY want some constructive critique on this, and any other chapters to come. A warning that I may not update for a while because of school exams and sheer laziness. Apologies in advance!**

**Interesting to note: A Friday, twelve days before Christmas. Anyone worked it out yet?**

**DarkFlame**


	24. In the Mind's Eye

**A/N: From now until the completion of the story, if I say anything odd or random during any of my author's notes, it's because of the stress. (THEY KEEP GIVING US MORE EXAMS!)**

**Anywho, chapters will be shorter than they had been before because I'm trying my hardest to make them as good as possible -unless, of course, I can't stand to look at the screen anymore because I've been on the computer for four hours straight and get lazy. I'm also making an attempt to update weekly instead of fortnightly (AFTER my exams!!).**

**I've actually figured out all my little subplots. (does dance of joy) Everything that happened before happened for a reason! It wasn't written by two psycho Gerik fangirls (at least, not anymore)! Yaaaaaay!**

**Just bear with me in regards to the subplots, okay? I intend to make this a cheerful story, and as exciting as I can make it. I also want to send a message about stereotypical fandom characters, but that's not until later.**

**If this chapter is boring, it's because I'm in a boring mood. If my author's note is random, it's because I just read Terry Pratchett's _'Maskerade,'_ which is a parody of sorts of Phantom of the Opera. :D I've finally found someone that writes like Douglas Adams (my favourite author), AND HE'S STILL ALIVE! I've got a fanfiction for Maskerade in mind; I've always wanted to write a bimbo Christine Daae, and now I have an excuse!**

**But nevertheless, if you don't take the fandom TOO seriously, go read Maskerade!! Read it, is say! Reeeaaad it...!**

**Ahem, pardon me. I'm driven mad from the lack of mangoes in my diet.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Phantom of the Opera _in any way, shape, form, or parallel universe.**

In the Mind's Eye

Mum caught sight of a pair of pale green slippers. Rushing over, she took them gingerly and held them up. "Aren't these nice?"

I stood back and looked blankly at them. My mind was truly empty. It must have been the fortieth shop we has rushed into, and the only thing we had bought so far was a pair of high heeled shoes that Mum just _had_ to have.

I turned my head to some turquoise boots. The toes were rounded, the heel didn't look too high and they shone in the fluorescent light. Pointing discreetly to them, I shrugged at my mother. She examined them with a critical eye.

"This _is_ a Bal Masque you're going to, Dana." she pointed out. "Lots of dancing and running around. Believe me; I remember what it was like." She lifted the slippers up again. "Aren't these much more practical? Besides, they're almost the same colour."

I sagged. "I don't even know what I'm going as yet. I never had this much trouble deciding what to wear to the Bal Masques when I was younger."

Mum pursed her lips, struggling not to smile. "That's because I stayed up through the night to sew together your costume every year! You were too young to really decide. What was it...? A fairy when you were six, an angel when you were seven-"

"I was sick the next year." I interjected, sitting myself down on a bench. "I stayed up all night crying."

"It was the princess costume that you spilled orange juice on, wasn't it?" Mum's forehead creased while she tried to recount everything. "Then the witch costume the year after... And last year's vampire outfit." she concluded triumphantly. "Not too shabby, if I may say so. I did a good job with that one." She sat down on the bench next to me, surveying the inside of the shop. "So what is it this year?"

"Let's try another shop."

"Good idea. Wait here while I take a look at those shoes over there, will you, darling?"

* * *

The Esplanade. The city's largest and most diverse shopping strip -but undisputedly dominated by shoe shops, clothes shops, jewellery shops, and specialist costume stores. Glass windows were filled with carefully-arranged wares, and it seemed that every establishment had a permanent discount sale going on. It's a fancy dress party every day on the Esplanade.

"We could always walk straight into a costume hire and see what fits." I suggested hopefully.

Mum immediately sniffed. "Costume stores, Dana? They're for the poor souls who can't sew to save their lives! I, however, can and have done for all the years of my life. And aren't you taking Textiles as an elective at school next year?"

"Yes." I mumbled grudgingly. "But that doesn't make it any easier to choose what to go to the Masquerade as." My head felt like exploding, and my feet had lost all feeling a long time ago.

Mum peered through a shop window. "What you need is a splash of inspiration. Any specific colour in mind?"

I shook my head, stuffing my hands into my pockets as we passed more shops. The Esplanade seemed to stretch on for the entire length of the world.

"Not pink, Mum." I said after some contemplation. "I wear pink every weekday, and I'm sick of it."

"All right, then. Something scary? Or an animal, perhaps?"

"Mum, you know I look stupid when I try to dress up as an animal. Some people can look good with a tail, others can't."

My feet slowed, until I finally stood still. "Mum?" I turned my head left, right, left again. "Mum?"I repeated.

"Dana-"

I shrieked and jumped up, tensed and ready to flee. A hand on my shoulder swung me around. Without a word, my mum dragged me into the shop and straight into an aisle full of silver necklaces.

She strode purposefully down the aisle, paused, then took a few steps backwards. "Aha!" she exclaimed, reaching up to pull a shiny chain off a hook. Holding the necklace with her slender fingers, she turned to me with a grin.

"Did I say you had to have a tail?"

The pendant dangled and reflected the light flowing into the shop from the skylight. I blinked a few times, recovering from the glare, and took it from Mum. It was a flat, silver pendant in the shape of a butterfly. A smaller butterfly sat on top of it, and a smaller one upon that. They clinked together as I held the chain, like a melodious set of chimes.

I turned it over a few times in my hands, thinking. _Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies. What do you know about butterflies, Dana?_

I hadn't really paid attention to them since I was...nine or so? I recalled sprinting around the playground until my school dress was streaked with grass stains, chasing moths and butterflies with my friends in spring. The teachers on duty could yell at us to stop because our uniforms were getting so dirty, but we pretended not to hear them and went on trying to catch the creatures in little boxes. When lunch ended we would get sent to Mr Chaney and get punished somehow, but a few moths inside a plastic box was enough of a reward to do it again the next day. The air had been filled with bees and moths and butterflies during spring, and the grass had been so bright and lush...

The silvery butterflies tinkled. Mum waited patiently, but she seemed a hazy blur as the idea struck me.

"Mum, do you remember which shop had those green slippers?"

* * *

A mother's anxiety has a positive correlation to the frequency her son retreats into his bedroom. The more he does it, the more worried she becomes.

And it's never a good sign when loud pipe organ chords are heard through the door.

She rapped her knuckled against the wood. "Erik! You're not doing homework, are you?"

The music stopped abruptly. If one concentrated, one could hear the ashamed sigh that came afterwards. "Sorry, Mother." came the muffled apology.

She opened the door of his bedroom. The boy was sitting by the electronic keyboard, hunched over and looking dejectedly at his feet. A thick bundle of music sheets drowned his school exercise books.

The mother smiled inside at the sight. Erik did love music, infinitely more than studying. But education was education, and his General Phantomy had been a disappointment...

"Erik, your father keeps telling you not to sit like that. You're going to end up a dwarf!"

_Are you crazy?_ her internal voice said. _He's a- a- a palm tree! He's already taller than you._

_Wow, time flies, eh?_

"Sorry, Mother." The child straightened, but kept staring at his toes.

"Your father's relatives are coming over tomorrow. I was going to remind you to tidy your room, but it looks all right now. Just remember to clear your music and books."

"Yes, Mother." he said, getting off his chair and collecting the music sheets scattered across the bed.

_You don't have to do it right this instant! _his mother thought exasperatedly. "It's tomorrow, Erik." she hinted. "Your uncle is looking forward to seeing you."

"Oh, whoopee." Erik said dryly, his head still lowered as he put the music away on a shelf.

_I don't remember that shelf being there. _she mused. _Oh my, did he build that himself?_

_The edges look a little uneven..._

"Well, I can take you shopping, if you like." she offered, taking note of his displeasured tone. "Get something for your school thing? The Bal Masque! That's what it was. How could I forget?"

Erik's head lifted suddenly. His eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes! Thank you, Mother."

"All right then." his mother said happily. "Tomorrow it is." She closed the door behind her, going back down the carpeted staircase.

She almost sliced off her thumb when she heard the music again. Setting down the knife, she listened carefully.

"No chords." she told the chunks of sweet potato on the chopping board. "Just a nice, simple tune. A love song, if I remember correctly. Now, I wonder why he's playing that. Hmm?"

The potatoes remained silent, merely waited to be put into the curry.

She began to hum along with the melody as she chopped the carrots.

* * *

I pulled on the drawer until it almost came out of the cabinet and fell on top of my head.

"Please be here, you have to be here. Don't tell me you're not in here!" I hissed at its contents.

Mum sat on the bed, flicking –very carefully- through the pages of the _Phantom of the Opera_ program. "How am I going to make those wings?" she muttered. A folded pile of green fabric sat at her toes.

"I _know_ I did a drawing of you!" I saw the corner of a page beneath a book. I extracted it from the mess inside the drawer and smoothed out the page's creases. It was only a rough sketch -I mustn't have spent more than twenty minutes on it- but it was a good blueprint for the costume.

No sooner had I begun examining the drawing than Mum had cried out triumphantly, stabbing a finger at the page of the program. Looking up from the picture, I walked over and sat down next to her.

"This is the best shot I could find." Mum told me. "Others were too small, or obscured by other performers."

The girl in the photograph was lifting her arms high, and with a surprising amount of grace, standing on tiptoe. Two almost transparent wings made of sheer material hung from her wrists. For a human pretending to be a butterfly, she looked amazingly sweet and cute.

"Stroke of genius, this." Mum said thoughtfully. "When you're stuck on a masquerade costume, copy someone else's!"

"That was a good day, wasn't it?" I said, drifting into a daydream. I could still clearly remember a member of the ballet sort of..._fluttering_ across the stage, her open and smiling face illuminated white by the stage lights. "Awfully nice of Charles, wasn't it? To give us those tickets?"

"Well, we'll never get your costume finished if we sit around looking through the program all day." Mum said sharply, stirring herself and kneeling by the fabric we had bought.

"We've already got the shoes." I pointed out optimistically.

"Hmm." said Mum. "That we do."

**Dana's 'costume' stems rather strongly from my memory of a very pretty, young, ballet dancer that fluttered across the Lryic Theatre stage the last time I went to Phantom of the Opera, with an open and smiling face illuminated white by the stage lights... Only partly, but strongly.**

**I don't even care whether or not that makes sense.**

**Abandon all expectations, and presume nothing!  
DarkFlame**


	25. She Who Hides Behind No Mask

**A/N: I present to you another chapter, with pride! I have tried VERY hard on this chapter, to make it descriptive and interesting and as bloody exciting as I could!**

**I dearly hope you all enjoy reading it, because I have done all that I can this weekend to make it brilliant! I would not settle for 'good.' I wanted it to pwn! (As my friends would say, PWN!)**

**For many, many weeks, I have neglected to thank all of my wonderful and caring regular readers and reviewers in my author's notes. Though I have made it a mission to always reply to reviews accordingly, it is time that I let everyone else know that YOU ARE ALL AWESOME! And I hope you all consider this chapter pleasant to read. Enjoy yourselves!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera.**_

She Who Hides Behind No Mask

I will never forget the way Charles' eyes shot out and twitched. Though I was sure he was acting and putting on a show, his voice did sound somewhat sincere.

"Dana! You look gorgeous. I'm sure you and you mother worked hard."

I smoothed out the petals of the green skirt absently. "Mum sewed, I designed. A bit."

I did love that costume, though. Of course, I had the green slippers on. The body of a butterfly was on the front of the bodice; its curly antennae were the straps of the dress (my own stroke of ingenuity, at long last). Mum had tie-dyed some gauzy material, and I had her to thank for a pair of delicate butterfly wings. The only thing I had to complain about was having my hair in an ostentatious bun, which Mum had insisted upon. And as if my costume wasn't colourful enough, she had sprayed my hair green with coloured hairspray.

I'll get back at her for that after the New Year.

But for the moment I ignored the weight at the back of my head. Charles winked at me, and led me out the door.

"Close your eyes, Dana." he whispered.

"This had better not involved a whipped cream pie to the face." I warned.

Charles chuckled softly. "It's got nothing of the sort. You can open them now."

The light of a summer sunset leaked under my eyelids, and I opened them in an instant. In front of the garden path, an open carriage was tethered to -of all things- Charles' bicycle.

I clapped a hand to my mouth to plug in the delighted, shrieking laughter. _This is going to be a good night, _I thought. And with that, I ran down the path and almost flew into the carriage seat. It was soft and velvety; I could barely control the contented giggles that bubbled up my throat. _I wonder where Charles got this from, _I mused. _Maybe he nicked from the theatre stage props... _I smiled knowingly. That sounded exactly like something Charles would do. Of course, he'd do it with every intention of returning it as soon as possible.

"Will you be joining us, madam?"

Mum, who had been standing at the doorjamb watching us, backed away. "With you driving? I'll stay home tonight. Someone's got to get dinner sorted."

"Suit yourself." Charles hopped onto the bicycle and blew her a kiss. "I'll have this girl there and back in one piece." As we gained some speed, his black opera cloak began to billow in the breeze...operatically.

"I'll hold you to that, you know." I commented from the carriage seat, turning my head to look at the passing houses. The air flowed past, attempted to make my hair ripple, and failed.

There are times when you thank Almighty Leroux for hairpins and hairspray.

Charles' answer was faint. "I know that. It was a _promise._"

A smile spread across my face. "Good." I leaned back into the seat, and resolved to enjoy the ride.

* * *

When you're standing in front of the hall doors, all your excitement vanishes and is replaced by a strange numbness brought on by the looming double doors. One just feels _overpowered._ The handles were polished to diamond perfection, the hinges had been oiled earlier in the day, and the wooden doors hid dark secrets behind the varnish...

And they were already open.

Yellow light threw itself out of the opening, declaring war upon the night. I could hear screams, chatter, and loudest of all, laughter. Everyone inside seemed to be having a wonderful time.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped gingerly inside was the sound. Music, voices, movement. Students were-

What _were _they doing?

There is a phenomenon that occurs every Bal Masque, as the largest of all social occasions. Things stop making sense, people act stupid, they get drunk on lights and sound, go mad with exhaustion, and…no one would have it any other way.

I shrank back, letting a crowd of gossiping girls run and dance past me. I took a few moments to admire their costumes. They had obviously organized their clothes carefully; each girl had a skirt of red and black strings of fabric and a bodice of gold and gem colours. Tiaras of gold sat delicately atop their heads and tangled up their hair.

A chandelier rose above everything. Something snapped inside my mind as I craned my neck to look at it. _Wow._ And with that, all thoughts of hiding against the walls for the rest of the night disappeared.

_Drinks, _I thought. _Get a drink. Then go party._

I made my way to the drinks table at the back of the school hall, passing a soldier in Roman armour, several monkeys, a lion, and bumping quite violently into a tall girl with a skirt of glittery silver spiderwebs. She lowered her black mask and glared at me before I rushed away, my face reddening.

Rows of bottled water sat on top of a white tablecloth. I swiped one and stood back to observe my fellow students chase each other around the hall. Some were attempting to imitate the act of 'dancing' -all different styles, both appropriate for the music and not- in small gatherings of friends. A large band was playing a boisterous and lively tune at the base of the stage, but one could hardly hear it above the noise.

An Egyptian queen danced past; her boyfriend dressed as a Pharaoh and gripping a crook and flail matched her step for step. Someone lumbered past in a complete bear costume, lacking in the ability to avoid crashing into everyone else. A toy soldier did a cartwheel. Her somersaulted and landed in front of my feet, straightening and offering me his hand.

I capped the bottle and left it on the table.

My left foot took a step forward.

I lifted my right arm and lightly grasped his hand.

With some satisfaction, I noted that this movement showed off the hard work Mum had gone through to create my butterfly wings.

This boy was a Bal Masque guerilla. My first experience with one was back when I was six years old. I had been terrified when a boy three years above me had appeared in front of me and grabbed my wrists to dance. They usually travelled in groups of friends, making sure their faces were covered with masks, and went around dancing with every shy girl that looked like she wasn't enjoying the night as was proper. And once she at last cracked a smile of let loose a laugh, they bowed farewell and left to seek others.

I suppose both parties have fun.

The toy soldier dragged me deeper into the crowd and spun me around. It was an old trick, perfectly suitable for forcing a girl to dance. After a few moments, I gathered the courage to do a showy pirouette.

_Thank _you, _Madame Giry!_ the voice in my head screamed as I felt the wings stretch between my wrists and the back of my dress.

I stopped spinning and stumbled a few steps to the left. Coloured spots flashed in front of my eyes. I tried to regain my balance, but too late, I fell backwards into a partygoer.

"Hey, you look great, Dana!"

I straightened and turned around. "Edwin! Thanks for catching me." I said bashfully. "Didn't break your ribs, did I?" I took a step back. "WHOA. That's _cool!_" Tapping a finger to my chin, I examined his chosen costume intently. "Nice. Different. Unusual. But, why?"

Edwin flicked his black tail absently. "Friday, twelve days before Christmas. It's Friday the thirteenth today. Thought it'd fit the occasion."

I stared at his eyeholes. A black panther's face stared back. "Lovely fabric texture." I commented with a smile. "Save me the design, will you? I'm in Textiles next year."

"You want a drink? You look hot."

I remembered the bottle I had left on the table. "Sure thing. You probably need one, too. Isn't it sweaty in that costume?"

Edwin shrugged, elbowing past a huddle of red and white mushrooms and sidestepping a rather bold tropical fish. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long." I said, picking up my bottle. The water sloshed against the plastic, cooling my palm. "I danced with a toy soldier, which was nice."

"One of those Masquerade guerillas?"

"You're not planning to ditch me and go take up a guerilla dance-and-run mission, are you?"

Edwin shook his head. "Never! Why would I ditch you? Where's Estelle?"

"I haven't seen her yet. Do you realise the nature of your question? For all we know, she could be in the next galaxy right now, battling cheese-men with nothing but a fork and a jar of mild salsa..."

"At last my philosophical approach to life has _rubbed off _on her!"

With a surprised splutter, I twisted around to greet her. "Estelle! My, don't you look nice. I like the way the dress colour pales in gradients. And I adore that mask! You have to tell me where you got that fabric. It's so _shiny!_" I saw stars. Literally, as Estelle's evening dress had silver stars scattered all across the violet purple background. I guessed she had chosen to dress up as the night sky, or something similar.

Estelle rolled her eyes behind the purple domino mask. "Born to be a designer, I swear."

"Just one thing. Please don't sneak up like that while we're drinking water. You'll have to explain to my mum how I came to my unfortunate death on the night of a Bal Masque."

"Friday the thirteenth!" Edwin sang.

"I don't believe in jinxes." Estelle said, taking a bottle of water from the table. "I haven't missed too much, have I?"

A pack of dance-and-run guerillas were advancing up behind her. I spotted the toy soldier among them, and tried to hide behind my bottle. The drinks table seemed to be thronged with shy people avoiding the festivities, and so was a popular ground for guerilla boys to attack.

Estelle sipped her water, unaware that she was the next target.

The band switched regularly between classical Bal Masque music to more modern songs, and at that moment a particularly energetic one began. A masked jester within the group smiled through his mask, and walked up to tap Estelle on the shoulder.

I could see her face contort in self-conscious fear. Her hands shook violently until the jester took the bottle out of her hands and led her into the dancing crowd, where a dismayed expression of embarrassment overtook her face. Estelle looked to me for help -she had obviously never met a guerilla dancer before- but the toy soldier had already thrown me into the dance a second time. Edwin stood by the table, gazing in shock.

_They really intend to keep us on our toes, don't they? _I thought, trying to remember some dance moves that didn't look too silly. The music floated around the entire hall, eventually drowning under the voices of masqueraders. I tried a small half-turn, something Madame Giry had called a _demi detourne,_ got dizzy –again- and fell onto one of the boys. Again.

This one didn't seem to mind me colliding into him at all. His face was obscured by an eagle beak, but the rest of his costume didn't resemble a bird at all. It was all gold, striking me as something more like a lion... I looked up at his face at the dark eyes.

Before I could speak, the melody of the traditional Masquerade Dance wafted over our heads. Like all the other boys this one remained silent throughout everything, grasping my wrist and encouraging me to dance.

_Flaming violins, I'm dancing, I'm dancing!_ I hummed along to the strings in the band. "Drink it in; drink it up, till you've drowned, in the light in the sound-"

He leaned down to my ear. "Perhaps later in the night, you'll come up on stage and show everyone what you've been learning from my singing lessons."

I stopped dancing. "Monsieur Gerik!"

The Phantom laughed quietly, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Monsieur Khan or Madame Giry will gladly direct you to the stage, if you've lost your way."

An Asian merchant grinned at me, and I recognized Madame Giry's perfect teeth with a jolt. A young woman in white stood next to her, conversing to a boy dressed as a skeleton. The merchant noticed his and slapped her hand.

"Meg! I know some of the students have a crush on you, but don't _encourage t_hem!"

"Sorry, Mother."

Mr Gerik smirked at the sight. "You and your friends spend far too much time around the drinks table! I'll not have you all wasting the night. Enjoy yourselves, understand?"

My mind in a whirl, I gave a hasty curtsy. "Yes, sir!" Mr Gerik turned and began to stride away.

"Sir!"

He swiveled back.

"You make a very impressive griffin, sir."

"And you a very charming butterfly." he replied smoothly.

I looked down at my shoes and blushed. His red and gold cape trailed behind him.

_I hope no one is stupid enough to trod on that, _I thought, watching him walk away. Edwin came up behind me and put a hand on my arm.

"Who was that weird guy?" he asked quietly.

I snorted at Edwin's description. "Mr Gerik!" But for the panther mask that covered the top half of his face, I would have seen Edwin turn deathly pale.

"Bloody senior boys!" Estelle muttered as they left. "Where did I put my water bottle?"

"Never mind, Estelle. Let's just get into our own dancing, before any other Masquerade guerillas come for us."

At that moment, the band stopped playing and a voice boomed from the intercom speakers within the hall. I recognized it as Mr Gerik's. _"As year twelve's final Bal Masque, let's celebrate tonight and have them all up onstage!"_

Estelle sucked in a breath. "Ahh! Mr Gerik asked me to do a speech for this! Oh, where did I put the palm cards...?"

"Relax, Estelle." Edwin said. "And good luck!"

She smiled thankfully at us, and ran towards the front of the hall. Inevitably, she was almost bowled over by the person in the bear costume.

I laughed merrily. _That guy gets everywhere._

Everyone inside the hall stopped dancing and running, facing the stage silently. As much as they itched to get on with the party, they knew that Mr Gerik would have a detention ready for them if they caused a disturbance. And so every face was blank with boredom and impatience.

Neither Edwin nor I listened to any of the speeches made by the pupils in the other years, praising and wishing luck to the departing students, until Estelle stood at the lectern.

She cleared her throat.

There was a thunderous boom, like the crashing of cymbals with an undertone of at least five gigantic gongs, but it wasn't the band. It was at the other end of the hall. Every last head twisted rapidly to face the source of the sound. Eyes darted back and forth wildly, trying to visually locate it. I could hear Estelle stutter into the microphone, stunned by the sound.

A single second after the noise faded into almost silence, there was a powerful explosion of orange stars and fire by the drinks table.

I flinched from the heat, covering my face with my arm. The burst was so hot that it felt like my hair was on fire. In fact, with all the hairspray that Mum had put on it I feared that it would catch alight.

"The Magician's Flame." I heard the person next to me whisper. I shot a glance at his face, and saw it to be Monsieur Nadir Khan in the garb of a matador.

My brain whirred into activity. If Mr Khan was standing _next_ to me...and Mr Gerik was on the _stage_...

_Who else was there who could pull off a trick like that?_

That was the work of a Phantom, a true Phantom to the core. It was professionally done! I could not imagine any of the boys in the school, from kinder to year twelve, who could find the resources to do something like the Magician's Flame. You didn't learn that sort of thing until you formally applied for a university course at the Leroux Institute.

I may have only been in the school for less than a year, but I knew that things that complex never happened in St Gerik's School.

Nothing happened for a few long moments. Acrid smoke form the explosion lingered in the air above our heads, tingling my nostrils. The silence was solid, like a tangible entity, weighing down the atmosphere inside the hall.

Gradually, the heads turned one by one back to the stage. A young girlish voice towards the front of the audience gasped, causing more people to turn. These people breathed, "What?" and "Oh my." More people faced the stage, curious about what everyone was so surprised by.

An Ingénue screamed.

Edwin gripped my hand until it turned numb with pins and needles, his plastic claws digging into my palm.

"No." I whispered. A dreadful realization entered my mind slowly, painfully.

That crimson explosion...it wasn't a concealing trick...it was to _distract!_ We were all looking at the hall's back wall when it happened; that must have been the plan all along! We_ weren't_ supposed to be looking at the stage, where Estelle had been about to present her speech.

I could see the golden figure of Mr Gerik marching around the stage, yelling angry phrases. Nothing was right, and no one could explain what had happened. No purple mask poked above the lectern.

"Oh no." I repeated, not really hearing myself. "No, God, no."

Estelle wasn't there anymore. She had been stolen right off the stage in front of a massive audience.

Just like Christine Daae.

**This chapter is three thousand words precisely, and I am absolutely exhausted. But I am also very satisfied with the ending, and I hope everyone can review with their thoughts. If I have erred in grammar or spelling or otherwise, I beg you to say so. But it would make me very happy if you just dropped a comment detailing how you reacted and hopefully enjoyed it.**

**Estelle's costume was based on the quilt on my bed! Dana's costume is based as said in the last chapter. Everyone else's is a random idea, excluding the girls with "tiaras of gold" (ballet dancers in Hannibal), the girl with the spiderweb skirt (Carlotta Giudicelli), the jester (ensemble member) and the toy soldier (ensemble member). I got those** **from watching the Phantom of the Opera musical.**

**Please review! There are not many chapters left, so do it while the story's ending is unknown to you all!  
DarkFlame**


	26. Down Once More Somehow

**A/N: After the last chapter, which I strived to make brilliant, this week's update is a let-down. I just feel that I put far too much dialogue in and nowhere near enough action or -more importantly- descriptions! I think I slipped back to Chapter 6 rate! D: I beg you to bear with me for a while. I thought the school stuff would be over by now, but there are still more. An English test** **that doesn't count towards anything, a Drama performance that _does _count (we're performing to the entire year), a Science presentation that doesn't count for much either... Relatively unimportant stuff, but it's still there. Also, school library-deprivation for the end of year stocktake!**

**ANYWAY! On with it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.**

Down Once More...Somehow

I felt very, very sick all of a sudden.

A clumsy rush towards the stage was made. People were elbowed aside. Feet were trodden on. I didn't care. I needed to get to the stage, see it for myself.

The crush of bodies tensed, and as one, looked to the chandelier. It was the largest one the school possessed, rarely put up. Gaudy and extravagant, it clashed with the disco balls that were placed around it to reflect the light. Modern and traditional. The chandelier tinkled slightly.

That minute jingling of glass was all the masqueraders needed.

Another girl screamed. It wasn't the sort of scream you hear in horror movies, the endless trill. This was a roar of fear bursting from her chest.

"It's an accident waiting to happen!"

"Oh God..."

People simultaneously surged towards the doors. If something bad happened, you just didn't stay in a room where there was a chandelier. Skirts were torn, all courtesy and politeness abandoned.

Someone bowled me over in their panic to escape the school hall. With a grunt, I was slammed painfully to the wooden floor. The sound of fleeing footsteps boomed around my ears; the floorboards were vibrating.

A hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me up. Edwin's sweating face was white. His mask was on the floor, getting trampled by everyone from kinder to senior year.

"Where did she go?" he shouted above the curses and screams.

"I don't know!" I yelled back. A girl in hysterics pushed in between us. The crowd was like a beast. Anyone who tried to remain still would be swept along regardless, or crushed.

"Get to the stage!" I told Edwin. I darted away and flattened myself against the wall, watching the stream of students flow towards the hall doors.

The chandelier caught my eye again.

_More than a thousand people are in here, _I thought with horror. _How many can get out before that thing is cut down?_

I turned my head to the stage, and began to shake with nausea again. It was like witnessing a gruesome murder, or a death warrant being signed. My best friend was missing, perhaps already dead...

With my mouth set in a grim line, I barged my way to the stage.

* * *

I climbed the stairs up to the stage, and was almost immediately apprehended by a portly man in a grey suit and a blue cape with skeletons on it.

He appeared to be just as surprised as I was when he saw me. He blinked a few times, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to find something to say.

I gathered my wits before him and bobbed a meek curtsy. "Monsieur Firmin, sir!"

The principal stuttered for a moment, then came to the conclusion that I was not meant to be climbing on the stage. His eyebrows knitted together and he raised a finger to admonish me, but barely was sound was made before someone behind him cleared their throat.

My gaze fell onto the figure of Mr Gerik.

"The students have to be evacuated from the hall." Mr Gerik said smoothly over the shoulder of the school principal.

Mr Firmin seemed to shake his head, then nod. "Indeed, that seems to be the case." he said, forgetting me. The portly man considered the problem for a moment, his dark moustache bristling.

Mr Gerik leaned forward again and prompted, "They should get marked off, to make sure all are accounted for."

Mr Firmin snapped out of his daze. "Yes, yes, of course. The class rolls should be collected. The children must be safe! Can't have the parents worrying."

The man in the blue cape walked briskly off the stage, joining the throng around the door.

I wasted no time, stepping forward to Mr Gerik. Out of the school principal and the deputy principal, I could clearly see who was in charge.

"Mr Gerik, I-"

He looked down at me and said brusquely, "You ought to get out of the hall with everybody else, Dana. I believe the celebrations are over for the time being." He glanced over my shoulder briefly. "You too, Edwin."

I took another step forward. "Mr Gerik," I said resolutely, "my friend has just disappeared in front of our eyes, and I am not leaving this building without learning how and why. And if I can, finding out how to get her back."

His eyes narrowed, the eagle mask making him look even more stern and fearsome than he usually was. "I can't be held accountable if the two of you are injured by glass shards due to your insistence on staying here." he said quietly.

Edwin sucked in a breath. "You think the chandelier is going to come down?"

"If whoever is responsible for these events is as clever as I am, yes."

I locked eyes with the teacher. "But you're not responsible for this chaos, are you?"

Mr Gerik shook his head slightly. "No. This is not my doing." With a golden sweep of his cape, he turned and walked over to Mr Khan on the other side of the stage. A loud and quick discussion between them arose.

I heard Edwin come up behind me. "You don't trust his word on that, do you?" he whispered.

I watched Mr Gerik for a moment. "I think I do. He is very upset that this happened right under his nose."

"But that thing he said about not being liable for us getting hurt-"

"The thing is, he _is _liable. The school is liable. He's letting us stay here because he doesn't _really_ think the chandelier is going down." I reasoned.

"Friday the thirteenth." Edwin muttered. He straightened up. "Nevertheless, a man of honour would never let a girl endanger herself in a situation like this. We should get out of the hall."

I spun around. "And leave Estelle to her fate?" I stared straight into his eyes, daring him to argue.

Without another protest, Edwin kneeled down and examined the spot where Estelle had stood to make her speech. I did the same.

_It's carpet on this section, _I noted. I ran my hand across it, my palm prickling against the fibres._ There are no seams, no sign of a trap-door... And if there is one here, I can't see a way to open it from this side._

A shadow fell over my hand, the shadow of a tall man.

"Trust me, there is no trap-door here." Mr Khan said to us. "I know all the trap-doors in this school, and so does your teacher."

I leapt to my feet. "But how _did_ Estelle vanish?"

His dark face creased in thought. "There was the Magician's Flame explosion at the back of the hall. No one was watching her when she disappeared."

Edwin's voice disrupted our exchange. "Dana, wasn't Estelle wearing lilac-coloured satin gloves? Say, going halfway up her forearm?"

"You found a glove?" I asked, anticipation rising within me.

"No."

Mr Khan whirled around. "Meg! Come help these students!"

A young woman dressed in white hitched up her skirt and hurried towards us, dropping to her knees beside the lectern. A few downy white feathers fluttered to the ground as she hastened to us.

She lowered her porcelain swan mask and whispered conspiringly to me, "By rights there _should_be a trap-door here. It's a convenient spot, don't you think? Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there." Meg Giry patted the carpet. "Don't worry, I'll help you find your friend."

"That is a very nice mask, Miss Giry." I murmured. I gulped, gathering the courage. My mind offered little resistance as my arm discreetly reached forward-

_Dana, you sly little vixen, _was the only thing the voice in my head said.

_Vixen? _another voice answered. _Why, I'm absolutely flattered._

A moment later, I stood up shakily. "Edwin, I think we should leave."

He looked up at me in puzzlement. "But we haven't found anything yet-"

"I know." I replied easily. "Because of that, we should search somewhere else. I feel it in my gut." I looked pointedly at him.

_Edwin, you foolish boy, don't argue with me here..._

Edwin's eyes flickered with confusion, then curiosity. "I suppose...we _are_wasting time here." he said carefully. He got up. "Thank you for assisting us, Ms Giry."

"Not a problem. Oh, I hope your friend is okay."

I nodded grimly, then turned and left.

* * *

I tripped over a double bass the Bal Masque band had abandoned and tumbled out through the door. The cool night air rushed into my lungs. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked around at the groups of children in the quadrangle, and I realised that there were a million places to search...

I had my intent set on only one.

Edwin placed a hand on my shoulder and hissed, "What on earth was that all about? We're practically deserting Estelle-"

"No, we are not." I held out my fist and produced a small key ring. It had three keys on it, jingling softly as I held them.

Edwin's eyes suddenly widened. "You _pick-pocketed _Meg Giry?!"

"She carries them everywhere." I stated. "Meg takes her job as a sports teacher seriously."

Edwin whistled, his eyes shining with admiration and the shock at my gall. "Very few Phantoms can pick-pocket these days. I can't even get something out of the biscuit jar if Mum's watching me." He exhaled loudly. "So what is it that these keys open?"

"The door to the school gymnasium. The storage room in the gym as well." I answered, hiding the keys again in case a teacher saw. "And that's where we can find Estelle."

* * *

"Let me get this clear!" Edwin wheezed as he ran behind me. "We're going to find Estelle by going into the _gym?_"

As we neared the door I slowed down to a tiptoe, willing my slippers to make no noise as I padded along the concrete. The keys pressed painfully against my foot. "Where do you take someone if you abduct them? Come on, you know this. You did it for your General Phantomy exam."

"To a lair, of course."

I bent down and withdrew the set of keys from the back of my shoe. "Right, a lair. And where do you find lairs?" I fumbled with the silver keys in the darkness, selecting one and shoving it into the lock. The knowledge that the night wore on stayed in the corner of my brain. My erratic fingers turned the key the wrong way and almost broke it. Time kept on flowing away.

"Down underground. Lairs are usually underground."

"Correct-" I dropped the keys in my haste. My shoulders shot up to my ears, and I flinched as if the sound of them clattering against the pavement had been a gunshot.

Edwin strode forward and took the keys. He twisted the key to the left, and the large door clicked open. I grabbed the metal handle before the door could swing and bang against the wall. Edwin slipped inside past my arm, and I followed.

The door clanged shut behind us. We blinked in the pitch black, groping around for the walls.

"Do you remember which direction the store room was in here?" I asked quietly. My voice echoed around the huge gymnasium. _Feels like a lair already._

"To the left, I think." Edwin was quiet for a minute, shuffling along with one hand flat against the wall. Then, "Dana, you realise that we could be wandering around inside the gym for the rest of the night? This place is gigantic!"

"Turning on the lights would give us away." I replied. "Just keep going until you feel a door."

"You still haven't explained everything to me, Dana."

I sighed. "I know a way down. Well... Sort of down. Do you remember when Mr Khan taught us about the illusions and stuff?"

In front of me, Edwin stopped walking. His black costume made him just another shadow against the wall. "Dana, you're not talking about Sweet Music's Throne, are you?"

I tried to laugh. "You do your homework, Edwin."

"You _are_ thinking of the throne, aren't you?" he accused. "Dana, are you mad? Only one person from the class has sat on that thing, and that was you. Don't you remember what happened when you did? Dana, you were screaming your lungs out!"

"Shush!" I hissed.

Edwin's voice lowered. "The look on your face when we dragged you off... Like you were about to _die_. You freaked everyone out. I- I was really scared for you."

I sniffed. "I don't forget something like that. But I swear, it's the only way down we have access to." I made my voice pleading. "We can't just give up here. Anyway, I ended up in Mr Gerik's own lair. That's as good a place to start looking as any. Estelle is underground somewhere. I can just...feel it."

Edwin was silent again for a minute. With a jerk he started walking. Then he laughed. "Out class teacher has a lair?"

"I'll give you a personal tour, if you like." I replied, sagging with relief that he consented to my plan. For the moment.

Edwin jerked to another stop. "I think this is the store room." he whispered to me. I heard the jangle of keys, then a struggle between lock and human. The door opened with a loud click, and then there was silence.

I peered into the store room, the distinct smell of leather wafting towards our noses. It was just another lump of black in a cavern of shadows. I squinted in an endeavour to locate the throne. I took a tentative step into the room with Edwin following, then another. Our shoes made scraping noises against the dirt and dust on the floor. I swung an arm around, trying to my way.

On my third footstep, I fell over a large chair with a dustcover thrown over it.

I rolled off, taking the sheet of fabric with me. I yelped as Edwin stepped on my hand in an attempt to help me up.

"Dana- Sorry! What did I just step on? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I sat up, pulling the cloth away from my face. "I'm fine. You didn't hurt me at all." I turned my head to the side. I saw the vague convoluted carvings that adorned a wooden leg.

The leg belonged to a black throne.

I reached a hand forward, grabbed the arm of the throne and heaved myself onto my feet. Edwin edged closer, steadying himself by holding the back of the seat.

"So this is it?" he asked, his voice shaky. "You just sit down and down you go to wherever?"

I nodded, then realised that he couldn't see me. "Yes. Down to the lair." My mouth suddenly tasted bitter, and my jaw ached as if I had been keeping my mouth firmly closed for too long. The shape of the throne seemed to dominate the room.

"And if Estelle isn't in this lair?"

My forehead creased. "The lair should be connected to other places underground. The school basements, perhaps. It's just..._convention!_"

I could sense Edwin staring incredulously at me. _Dana, you are an idiot. _I now became conscious of the stupidity of my plan. _How could I have been so presumptuous? There are a million places Estelle could be. Speeding away in a car, or Leroux knows where!_

It had just sounded so..._right_ at the time.

_It's always 'at the time,' isn't it? You foolish little ingénue..._

Edwin gave my shoulder a squeeze, as if reading my mind. "It's a possibility, at least. Probably our only option, other than simply waiting for the teachers or the police to do everything."

"Thank you." I said quietly. "My brain just screams that she's somewhere underneath the school."

" Right. There can't have been time to take her anywhere else." he reasoned. Edwin squared his shoulders, looking to the throne again. "I'm going first."

"Oh, stop being so manly." I retorted, slapping his arm. But my hand hit nothing but air. My eyes darted to the side. Edwin was already grasping the arms, seated in the centre on the throne. I could see his eyes shine with the anticipation of an incredibly unpleasant experience.

There was no comic sucking noise. There wasn't a swirling vortex, and if Edwin cried out I did not hear. There was only a clean _whumph _sound, and a gentle movement of air.

And then I was alone.

Growing frantic and feeling the shadows of the store room creep around me, I placed a hand onto the seat. For a single, solitary instant my fingers felt something soft –like a rubber or foam ball- but my brain instantly argued against it. The moment passed, and all I could feel was varnished wood. The seat was a bit warm, but that was all.

_Down you go, Dana, my girl, _the voice in my head urged.

I heaved in a breath and turned around. I could feel the wood beneath me; it was hard, smooth, _secure_-

My stomach flew up to throat level. There was a sensation of free-fall, unbelievably prolonged. A rush of air, my gauzy butterfly wings flapping...

The ground welcomed me with open arms.

It was just as I remembered. The floor coming in closer and closer, like the zooming in of a camera lens, and then there was only an awkward but soft landing.

I could see Edwin on his hands and knees a few metres away, groaning. It had no doubt been a frightening fall.

I looked around, my vision quickly adjusting to the dark setting. Surprisingly, even the store room of the school gymnasium had been darker than this-

_Uh oh._

It wasn't Mr Gerik's lair.

_You didn't remember this part five minutes ago, did you?!_

A lone wax candle lit up the chamber. The wick burned with a yellow flame.

"Oh, crap."

**Bob bless cliffhangers!!!! Muahahahahaaa! Every chapter shall have one from now on (I was planning to alert you to this last time, but forgot).**

**I apologise for the terrible quality of this chapter... After last time I was all, "Sweet! This is awesome! I'm going to write like this for the rest of the story, and it's going to be great!" Yeah, big dreams...**

**I had some trouble with the motives of characters. I knew how they were going to get to that point, but I just forgot what my idea was for WHY. Plus, I got side-tracked by Quizilla Phantom of the Opera quizzes... _Severely_ side-tracked.**

**At least it is over for another week. Review if you care to. I'll just go and collapse somewhere, as soon as I put in the TAC Les Miserables CD. (Did I mention that I am now terribly addicted to Les Mis?)**

**"Onwards, Binky! To the Hogfather's Castle of Bones!" Best quote EVER.  
DarkFlame**

**P.S. I constantly neglect to mention in author's notes how awesome all my readers are! Well-meaning glomps for you all, collect as you exit at the door.**


	27. She Who Must Work On Her Entrances

**A/N: I worked my arse off for four days to get this done, and it is extremely long. I probably should have divided it and posted as separate chapters, but it would have upset my delicate chapter title plan. (Yes... I even planned out my chapter titles.) That means that my American readers get the update on a Sunday. To all of my fellow Eastern Hemispherians, you get yours on Monday today.**

**Because I'm a day late, this chapter is extra long and particularly eventful. My longest chapter yet, so long that I haven't actually gotten around to editing. Feel free to critique. (PLEASE, for the love of chocolate cheesecake, maybe CRITIQUE!)**

**Disclaimer: IdonotownPhantomoftheOpera!!!!! Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster!**

**Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (c) to Douglas Adams' **_**Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy**_** book series. I think.**

She Who Must Work On Her Entrances

It was dark.

_Of course it's dark,_ she reprimanded herself. _It's night, and the passage isn't lit._

_Oh, I wish it was filled with candles and environmentally-friendly light bulbs... Maybe a few signs of life... Some decent maps placed at consistent distances would help a lot..._

It was amazing how her kidnapper managed to see his way. She had lost all sense of direction within minutes. She couldn't judge depth or figure out how far away the walls were; it was quite simply black shadows all around. She didn't even know what the walls were made of. They could have been in a hallway of the school, a tunnel underground, but she just didn't have the means to figure it out. The footsteps of her kidnapper echoed in the passage, but she guessed that was only because the sounds were following standard abduction convention. She was a smart girl, prided herself on her logic, but at that moment she was just a lump of ingénue backpack.

The footsteps plodded on.

Estelle moaned. She turned her head, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to bring the head into focus. It was late into the night, and her body yearned for sleep.

"Really, I reckon you're a little too thin to be carrying me." she pointed out in the general direction of the head. "I keep thinking your bones are going to snap any second."

_Talk him into putting me down. Then run away. Simple. It's a good plan._

"Oh, it's so _uncomfortable _in this _position!_" Estelle continued, emphasising the special words. It had occurred to her some time ago that she had been abducted. Yes. Abducted. Just like in all the stories.

It's not as romantic as it seems when your brain is knocking against your skull as you jolt along being carried on someone's shoulder.

The shoulder that was prodded into her stomach shifted and Estelle gave a pained grunt. Her hands scrabbled around for purchase, the satin gloves finding little.

"Honestly, it's no trouble." the abductor assured. The voice was soft, not overly loud, and as clear as the tinkling of glass. Its pitch varied from syllable to syllable pleasantly, ever so pleasantly...

"Oh, I hate to be the tiniest of an inconvenience-" she tried again.

_Meh__, I'm too tired, _she thought. _Let the guy carry me._

He wasn't very threatening. Estelle deduced that he was more of the romantic sort of abductor. He hadn't shown any signs of insanity so far. If anything, he was just desperate. Anyway, he couldn't have been much older than she was.

However, Estelle could find no reason for someone to be abducting _her_ for romantic reasons. She had had no childhood sweethearts during primary school, unlike that girl who had boldly kissed a boy in class on the first day of kindergarten (the little boy was shocked, to say the least, but nonetheless willing to play along with it). And it would be a lie to say that she had come to St Gerik's School looking for that special someone. Estelle was a very unromantic person, and had thrown up explosively by the time she was two chapters into reading her first teen fiction novel. And as she believed that it inflated one's ego, Estelle didn't like to think that someone in the school had suddenly fallen helplessly in love with her either.

That rather narrowed down the explanations, didn't it?

"May I compliment you on your dress tonight, Dana?"

Ah. That could be it.

Estelle heaved herself upright, the blood pounding in her head. She had this awful headache from being slung over that _bony_ shoulder. Her legs constantly dangled in front of him, and she was sick of the view of her kidnapper's back. The rustle of satin against her calves was the only thing that assured her that he wasn't peeking up her legs- And that headache from hanging upside-down was driving her _crazy!_

Yes, it was definitely time to take corrective action.

"Now listen here," she stated levelly, "I am not Dana. You've got the wrong girl."

The footsteps ceased.

A minute of contemplative silence passed.

Then, faintly, "You're...not Dana?"

Estelle kicked her legs gently, wondering if that was enough to make him put her down. "No. I'm not as energetic as her. And my hair is a very distinctive shade of black, unlike hers. She's got it in a bun tonight. For the Bal Masque, you know. Dressed as a green butterfly. With wings." She stopped, realising that it didn't improve the situation much. "I suppose it's a little hard to distinguish between us when it's a masquerade." she said as gently as she could, taking off the violet mask covering her eyes.

"But...she was supposed to be onstage!"

Estelle bit her lip. "Er. I don't think she was meant to be."

"But I asked Mr Gerik if any students were allowed to sing on the night. I thought that was enough of a hint for him to get Dana to sing. She has been taking lessons. She is very good!"

Estelle sighed. She had seen enough evidence; this person was an amateur romantic abductor. _Amateur._ "Yes, yes, I know that she is a very good singer. Even so, _I am not Dana!_"

The proclamation echoed in the passage with layered reverberating waves. The fancy kind.

Estelle was not the sort to resort to violence. She had tried pounding her kidnapper's back with her fists in the first few seconds of the journey, quickly coming to the conclusion that it didn't work. Now, she aimed one almighty kick with her sequinned shoe, hearing a cry of shock burst from the boy beneath her. She soon felt the arms around her lower back release, and fell onto the ground squarely on her buttocks.

Within seconds, the abductor faced a furious Estelle standing with her hands on her hips.

"I wasn't that upset with being abducted. I'm a level-headed girl most of the time. Other girls would be screaming and crying and yelling for help. Not me. I can deal with getting kidnapped. But when I get abducted _without good reason,_ I get very, very _angry!_"

The boy backed away with his hands held up protectively. It wouldn't save him from _any_ irritated girl –let alone a girl like Estelle- but it was something, at least.

"_Men!"_ she groaned, throwing up her arms. "It's idiotic males like you that waste our time. I could be doing something _productive,_ but instead, I'm getting _kidnapped_ because of a stupid _mistake_ made by some _boy!_"

The echoes faded away, quickly, as if in fear.

"So, are you going to take me back to wherever we came from?" Estelle's silver shoe was tapping impatiently against the floor. Even the stars on the gown seemed to glare angrily at him.

The abductor gulped. He had the dark passage. He had the echoing footsteps. He had even had a fairly compliant victim up until now, which was incredibly rare and unexpected.

But no one told him about kidnapping the wrong girl!

Estelle sighed heavily at his silence. "What's your name, idiotic male?"

The boy began to stutter. "Er- Erik. I'm Erik."

"I'm surprised you managed to figure out the whole process, Erik."

Erik gathered the bravery to speak up. "Yes. It was fairly difficult because there was no trap-door near the microphone, but I invested the week into making a clear path through all the backstage junk of the hall."

Estelle shuddered at the memory of walking backwards through the vast, dusty backstage area with a hand clamped over her mouth. "Indeed." she said dryly. "It was a significant improvement on the usual mess back there."

"It was a very long path through the backstage to get here."

"Yes. I'm sure you worked hard. And you expected Dana to be standing where I was?"

"I was quite confident."

"It seems you were wrong, Erik. What were you planning to do once you had kidnapped my friend?"

"Eh... I hadn't got that far. I was planning to make it up as I went along."

"Ah."

Things had stopped echoing by then.

When she noticed that Erik wasn't going to add anything –he was looking at the ground dejectedly- Estelle came to a decision. "I'd rather not go back the way we came. Too dark, and too dusty. Did you have a specific place in mind? A lair of your own making, perhaps?"

"It's not far from here." Erik mumbled. "But do you actually want to go there? You are not the one I intended to..._take,_ after all. I'm sorry for the mix-up, really."

Estelle shrugged lightly. "The hall should be in total chaos right now. Can't go back there. And if you bring me to this lair of yours, I'll probably find another way back soon enough."

Erik hung his head and resumed his trek. "How, may I ask, will you soon find another way back? I haven't even told you where we're going yet." His voice was pitifully despondent.

Estelle hitched up her dress and followed. "Oh, I think I'll get out no matter where you're taking me now."

"Mm-hmm?"

Estelle's reply was this: "Because Dana's bound to do something stupid like rescuing me."

Erik's head perked up.

There was a light up ahead, a radiant haze of bright aquamarine blue shining through a thin, vertical slit within the darkness. Estelle quickened her pace towards the light.

It was a door. Erik opened it with ease. The pair stepped through. Estelle inhaled deeply and gagged on the smell. Putting up a hand, she leaned against the wall.

At any rate, she began to lean against a wall but was too shocked by what she saw to realise that there wasn't one actually there, and so landed on top of a lot of...

It was soft yet firm, its shape familiar yet alien.

It was a lot of foam.

"Oh, hell."

* * *

"We're in deep shit, aren't we?"

I crawled over to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Edwin. I completely forgot about the cistula-"

"You never did mention a catoptric cistula, no." Edwin wiped his forehead with a black glove. All of a sudden he froze, slowly brought his hand away from his head and looked at it with horror. "It's getting hot." he stated. His emotionless voice made my stomach lurch more than his words.

We were in a torture chamber. And it was heating up.

Edwin took off his gloves and pulled at his collar. "I'm wearing black clothes. For God's sake, I'm wearing black clothes!"

"I'm sorry." I repeated, watching him sadly. I could feel the heat beneath my hands, penetrating the floor and radiating through the air. I gave his arm a companionable squeeze, while inside my mind was a frantic whirl of thoughts.

I had just doomed us both.

The first candle multiplied. The mirror walls reflected the image, again and again and again... I swept my gaze around, and saw an infinite plane of yellow lights. A million reflections. A million candles.

"Impressive." Edwin murmured. "The candle lit up as soon as I landed. Seemingly by itself. A good effect on the vulnerable mind, don't you agree?"

I got to my feet and walked a few paces towards what I hoped to be a wall. "We are alone here. The candle is a fancy prop."

"On the contrary, I reckon it's elegant in its simplicity." Edwin countered. "Just one candle. Let's see how long it takes for it to drive us insane."

I ignored him. _I'm not going to let that happen just yet, _I thought, running my hands over a sheet of mirror. I walked alongside it until I felt the join between it and another mirror, then doubled back, carefully counting my steps. "This wall is about five metres across, not very long. If this torture chamber is a regular hexagon, then that means it has a perimeter of...approximately thirty metres."

Edwin laughed dryly. "A regular polygon? Don't you remember the quality of Mr Gerik's diagrams from when we did Maths?"

"That means thirty metres for us to search."

"Search for a way out?" he scoffed. "Do you know the probability of escaping?"

I twisted around to face him. He was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the chamber, eyes closed as if in meditation. "Go on," I said irritably, "tell me. What's the probability of getting out of here?"

He sighed quietly. "Alone and with no tools of any kind in a professionally-made torture chamber, two civilians have ever been reported to come out alive. Two."

I turned back to the wall, running my hands across it once more and pushing against the smooth surface. "We're not Phantoms, and we're not viscounts. We're just kids. If any student ever managed to somehow get down here, Mr Gerik wouldn't want to find ten corpses here the nest week. So there has to be an escape. The last time I was down in this place, he took me out through a door in the wall."

I heard Edwin shift position. "That...might bring up our chances a bit more."

Within seconds he was next to me, pressing his palms into the mirror, praying that his hands would release a catch and open a hole in the walls of the cistula. "By the way, Dana, it isn't thirty metres. You're thinking length; I'm thinking area." He paused and bent down, and then I saw one of his shoes fly up into the air. It hit the ceiling with a thump, then fell back down.

"I'm guessing four to six metres high." he deduced. "Let's say six. Five by six by six is _thirty by six..._"

"One hundred and eighty." I supplied. "Square metres."

Edwin cursed under his breath. "We _are_ in deep trouble."

I moved to the right. "Door... There's a door somewhere... Agh!" I cried out and sprang swiftly away from the wall.

"What's wrong?"

"It was really hot there." I inspected my hand carefully for burns. The flesh was red and sore to touch, but no skin had come off.

Edwin held his hand a few inches away from the wall and moved it up and down. "Not just that one spot, but there's a whole column here that's hotter than the surrounding area. Perhaps a heat source is behind this. Like a Roman bath..."

"A bath? What are you talking about? _Bath?_"

Edwin stepped back and looked intently at the mirror wall. "A hypocaust heating system, used to heat the Roman baths of old. The floor is suspended above stacks of brick, so warm air from a furnace can circulate underneath and heat the floor. The hot air also travels up channels in the walls to heat the chamber up with relative consistency."

"That's it." Exhaustion crept over me. I fell to the ground and pulled myself into a cross-legged position. The floor was unbearably hot by this time, but I did my best to ignore it. "You beat me. You've gone insane. Now let's see how long I can last."

"I'm not insane just yet." Edwin retorted. "This just might save us-"

"_Save_ us?" I squawked with laughter. "You're reciting bloody Roman history! But thank you, Edwin. Now I have the pleasure of knowing that I'm going to die in a Roman bath!" I threw up my arms and fell onto my back. The ceiling was black. _This shall be our tomb, _I thought vaguely.

"And a badly-made one too!" Edwin said loudly. "This," he jabbed a finger at the wall, "is a flue, one of the channels. If we can break through that sheet of mirror, we might find a way out. Maybe. The heat's not conducting very efficiently, so we can detect the flues. And look-" Edwin strode over to the opposite side of the chamber.

"This side is colder! In comparison, at least. The furnace must be on that side, so if we can break through to a flue on the cooler side, we may be able to get out without being burned to a crisp.

"The hypocaust was designed for Roman baths, a bearable environment for humans." He paused to wipe the sweat off his face. "This is a torture chamber, designed to kill. So the furnace must be using more fuel. I'm not sure why, but the heat isn't spreading fast enough... We may have enough time."

I groaned softly, still staring at the ceiling of the torture chamber. I heard Edwin walk towards me and look down. I could see the sweat on his face; his black panther costume looked extremely uncomfortable.

"You said only two civilians had ever gotten out."

"Yes." Edwin sat down heavily beside me. "Come to think of it, you tricked me into getting up to help look for a way out just so you could have a rest, didn't you?" he joked.

I smiled faintly. "Hmm. Yes I did. Simply so we could switch roles. I started to look for an escape, and you found it for me."

"I'm not sure if it will work, though. And we're both sitting down at the moment. Not trying very hard."

I sat up so we were both facing the same direction. "Have you ever come close to dying before now?" I asked him softly. My voice cracked towards the end. The fear was showing through at last.

No child of thirteen years wants to die.

Edwin reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "No. I haven't." he replied simply.

I let my hand lie inside his.

_At least I'm not dying alone, _I thought comparatively optimistically.

"I'm sorry, Edwin." I said faintly. There was behaviour to explain, actions to apologise for. But we just sat together in silence, accepting each other and the fact that we were going to perish inside a torture chamber.

_How incredibly stupid, _my brain said.

_Shut up, _I replied.

"You did it for Estelle." he said comfortingly. "We tried."

"The cistula didn't heat up the last time I was here, though!"

Edwin smiled. "Maybe Mr Gerik only turns the torture chamber on at night, eh?"

I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. The candle flames waved, as if in farewell. I fanned myself with a hand, the gauze of my butterfly wings rippling. "You say that side is cooler than this one?"

"A bit better. I don't get it. The Romans were engineers of genius. How could the design work so badly here?"

I crawled away on my hands and knees. "Come over to this side first, and then you can spout more history at me." I beckoned to him, leaning against the smooth wall.

He came over, moving groggily, and sat against the wall. "I expected Mr Gerik to put the ingenious design to better _use-!_"

I blinked at the empty space beside me. I thought that Edwin had teleported away, but then I noticed that his legs were still sticking out on the floor. I leaned over, searching for the rest of his body. It was inside a dim recess in the wall, previously hidden. The mirror panel was underneath him, broken into two.

"Dana, is this the door you were talking about?"

I shook my head both in wonder and as a negative indicator. "It's too narrow to be the door..."

"Doesn't matter." Edwin shot back. "It's a hole in the wall, which means it's a way out of the torture chamber, and I'm going through it."

"Well, you're not leaving me here!" I cried out, following his disappearing figure into the narrow tunnel. The sound of our hands and knees pounding against the surface echoed noisily. It felt similar to metal, and the further we crawled the cooler it became.

The passage soon widened, and then we were in a much more unrestricted place. It was the shape of a bulging vase; a thin passage entering a big round space. And it was much cooler in that space.

Edwin and I fell into each other's arms and began to jump and dance around in a circle.

_We're alive..._

We screeched with laughter and yelled things at each other that neither of us heard.

_We made it!_

We squeezed each other with our arms so tight we couldn't breathe properly.

_Oh my Michael Crawford!!_

And before I knew it, my lips were kissing something.

_Your first kiss, Dana, _the voice in my head said faintly.

_What the hell do you do in your first kiss? Stand there and hope your lips don't taste too salty?_

The glitter on my face itched. My face still burned with heat. We were both drenched in sweat and far too tired-

And yet we were sharing a kiss, right then and there.

He pulled away. We stared at each other.

"Eh..." I began.

"Umm. Er." Edwin answered.

I coughed. "Do you really like me that much?"

He gulped. "Did you notice Estelle acting strangely at all after our abduction examination?"

My eyes widened at the memory. "How did you know?"

"I was her partner for the exam. I was kind of hoping to get partnered with you, and that's when I realised it. I told Estelle in the middle of the exam that I...really liked you."

"Oh." _He didn't say that he loved me, _the voice said vaguely. _Oh, thank the gods; he didn't say that he loved me!_

"We can talk about this later, right?" I said carefully.

"Right. I think this is sort of a rest stop. The tunnel goes on." Edwin pointed.

We went for it.

We were again enveloped in darkness within the cramped space. For a distance the tunnel sloped upwards, but then levelled out.

_Now would be a very bad time to get claustrophobic, Dana, my girl, _I mused.

"It's a long tunnel." Edwin said after a while from up ahead. "We've perhaps travelled, what, twenty metres?"

"Nah, I say about ten. You're just moving slowly." I replied.

"Anyway, it's starting to decline." he informed me.

"It should lead to Mr Gerik's-"

Edwin's crawling form vanished.

Light shone up through the floor of the narrow tunnel. There was a square hole cut out of the metal. I crawled towards it and looked down. It was a drop of two and a half metres. I put my hands on the other side of the gap to brace myself, then lowered my legs down into the opening until I was hanging by nothing but my fingers.

_Geronimo!_

Feet first, I landed on a pile of red embroidered cushions.

"Specially-positioned for those few who make it out of the cistula, I imagine." Edwin said, offering a hand to help me up.

I took in my surroundings quickly. It was a nice room, tastefully-decorated. A violin case leaned against the wall, next to a music stand with no music sheets and a baby grand piano. There was a door to the right, which I opened and peered through.

"That's the room he led me into after he took me out of the torture chamber." I said. "And this is his private music room."

"Back to the task at hand." Edwin said. "I assume Estelle is in neither of these rooms?"

I cringed guiltily. I had forgotten our friend for most of the time in the torture chamber. How much time had we wasted?

I began to pace across the sumptuous carpet. "This is Mr Gerik's private lair. He's the deputy principal of the school, though he looks as though he has more power and control than the principal himself."

"I always thought Mr Firmin looked a little clueless when he walked around the place."

I resumed my reasoning. "Would Mr Gerik have his own passageways? Secret ways of accessing the rooms of the school? The basements? Leroux knows what's in the basements."

"Only one way to find out." Edwin declared, opening a second door. "Ladies first."

I took one last look around the room as I made to leave. Only two doors in the room, the one I was about to go through and one leading to the second room.

There was also a small stuffed griffin by the door that I hadn't noticed before. Fake, of course. You couldn't stuff a griffin.

After we both walked through the door, I forgot about it almost at once.

I groped against the wall beside me for a light switch, and in all irony, found one. A naked bulb lit up the bare, undecorated chamber.

"A crossroads." Edwin murmured. "Three paths that we can take. The thing is, which one?"

A corridor led straight ahead, eventually being swallowed by darkness. One to the left and one to the right. A crossroads indeed.

"Eenie meenie, minie moe..."

"Let's just go straight, shall we?"

"Fair enough. The light travels further down it."

I counted the steps. Thirty-four paces along that tunnel. Our footsteps constantly echoing off the curved walls...

The passage ended with a door. A regular, uninteresting door that was painted a pale green and with a shiny metal knob.

Edwin took a breath, stole a glance at me, and took hold of the knob.

There was something large pushed behind the door, and it would not open until the both of us ran at it and shoved. As we stepped slowly through, the creaking of the door echoed eerily.

Of course.

A blue light seemed to ripple through the very air. I could smell something, something odd, and yet very familiar. Slightly pleasant but surely man-made. Something _chemical..._

What _was_ that smell? The answer was there in the back of my mind, as if I had known it all my life, but just _what_ was the name?!

I noticed that my slippers were damp. I could feel the moisture seep into the material, my toes becoming wet. As if there was water on the floor...

I looked down, saw white tiles and cerulean spears of light dancing across them.

"Far out." Edwin breathed beside me.

I raised my head, looking again at what was before us.

It was the swimming pool.

Lair-thing.

**Of course,** **St Gerik's School's underground swimming pool!! Lair-thing!!! I hope you can all remember _that. _I told you I figured out all the little sub-plots I can't even remember why I put in! I'm so _happy _with it! Yaaaaay! After the suspense in the last few chapters, I felt that it was time for some much-needed comedic relief from Estelle and Erik's side of things! I hope very much that you all enjoyed it.**

**Four thousand, three hundred and forty-seven words! At least, I did some editing. Took me four days to write! I'll just die from exhaustion now.**

**It's been a terribly eventful four days. I've been busy hand-painting my friends' Christmas cards, rehearsing for my Drama performance (which we performed today in front of the entire year **_**and**_** some Year 7s **_**and **_**some teachers; it went spectacularly!) and translating the very last passage in my Latin textbook and getting over the main character's death (Caecilius died! I can't believe Caecilius died!! By the way, if you do Latin you are awesome; if you use the Cambridge Latin Course textbook you are extremely awesome.)**

**Next weekend is even more eventful. I have to go to school for half a day to get two awards: General Proficiency which means that you do well in every subject at school, and Top of the Year in Latin! (Me tooting my own horn:) I'm very pedantic with Latin grammar and did great in all my Latin tests so I'm not that surprised, but very proud. :D However, if you're not getting an award you get to stay home (and have fun!). I have to sit down, get up onto the stage to get my piece of A4 paper with shiny writing on it, sit down again, and pretend to listen to people talk for two hours.**

**Also, that evening my parents are treating me to a performance of the uniquely Australian musical **_**Priscilla, Queen of the Desert**_** at the same theatre Phantom of the Opera was in during its Sydney season.**

"**It's Christmas, what do you want?"  
"I already spent more than eight hundred dollars on Phantom. Shouldn't I get nothing for at least five Christmases?"  
"It's Christmas. What do you want? Is there another show you want to go to?"  
"Sort of... But we're not Christian."  
"Does it matter? We're...uh...Buddhist."  
"I'm an atheist."  
"Just what is it that you want?"**

**Paraphrased, of course.**

**ANYWAY! Review if you care to, a lot did happen in this chapter. Oh Bob, how I adore cliff-hangers at the end of every chapter. Muahaha. Ha. ;D**

**The walnuts are coming! (Remember how I said I would say random things in my author's notes due to stress? I kind of forgot to until now.)  
DarkFlame**

**P.S. Oh my Bob, I can't believe it's only Monday! After the Drama performance today I'm hot and sweaty and tired and I deserve another weekend!!!**


	28. Make a Night of It

**A/N: A day late again, my deepest apologies to you all. I had to write most of it on Sunday, since I didn't get much time on Saturday because I was looking after my brother with my uncle while my parents went to a Christmas party. Friday night was spent at **_**Priscilla**_** (front row is LOUD. I think I've gone half-deaf; worse yet, they had a handful of electric guitars in the orchestra pit...) and on**_** Thursday **_**I was at the orthodontist getting braces put on! :( I never wanted braces, but Mum forced me to get them. I'd rather use the money to go to Fiji! They hurt like **_**TARTARUS**_** and I haven't had a proper sandwich in days...**

**Anyway, on with it. I left it at a rather nasty cliff-hanger last time, and just wait until you see the one at the end of this chapter!**

**SERIOUSLY, **_**WAIT.**_** DON'T YOU **_**DARE**_** SCROLL DOWN!!!!! DON'T YOU DARE!**

**I had a lot to say in this chapter, and I was so absorbed in writing it that I nearly forgot to put in one of most important plot points! It took a darn long time to edit, too. I'm not one hundred and ten percent satisfied with this, but still... I hope you take pleasure in reading it (heh, that's going to be a tad difficult), and don't forget to leave a review!**

**I had planned this to be the second last chapter, but after some contemplation I decided to add another one, so things would make more sense, and also so I wouldn't end the story a single chapter short of a nice round 30 chapters! It's going to disrupt my delicate chapter title plan a little bit, however. The remaining two chapters will be short, and I swear there's going to be a happy ending.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.**

Make a Night of It

His footsteps, surprisingly, did not echo as he strode down the vinyl floor of the school corridors.

The principal was taking care of the students. Many parents had been called and their children taken home. The chandelier had not been cut down yet, nor did it look like anyone was going to do the deed that night.

That left him free to solve the mystery.

A student had been abducted right in front of a hall full of witnesses that hadn't been watching. That wasn't good. He had no clue who had done the abducting. That wasn't good either.

The metal plaque on the door read, _'SSL Room.'_ Mr Gerik stole a look behind him –you could never be sure that one of the pupils or teachers hadn't sneaked in after you on a night like this – and silently unlocked the door, easing it open.

The room was dark and unlit, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Quickly for an average person, but to him his personal standards were slipping downwards as he got older.

There was a smell of rock and water in the air. Even without a lantern to light the way, he could navigate the well-known path with ease. He greeted the shadows like old friends. They were the same shadows he hid in while marking exams, and they never changed much.

Estelle and her abductor weren't there.

That was bad.

Mr Gerik had to pause for a moment. Most people would think they had no other options at this point. Where else would a kidnapper take a young girl? Assuming that the kidnapper was a person within the school, they would know no place else. Searching outside of the school grounds was out of the question, and up to the police.

But a Phantom is no ordinary man.

For once, logic would be useful. Logic was what kept a magician's audience unable to understand how he did his act. Logic was what kept scientists apart from philosophers. And for the very first time, simple logic would help a man work out someone else's trick.

Everything connected after a while. Literally. He knew his school, and he also knew the parts that no one else suspected to exist. They were all connected, mostly by obscure and winding paths.

In essence, there were three decent underground locations. Everyone knew about the SSL room, used for annual abduction examinations. Everyone knew about the school swimming pool. (However, nobody but the swimming team ever used it. And him, of course. You can do lots of things when you're the deputy principal.)

And the third place, not a soul knew of at all.

A nagging thought wormed its way into his mind at that moment, squirming and grunting until it finally exploded into his headspace with a triumphant but exhausted shout.

No one at all-

_Except..._

Oh dear.

A Phantom knew many things. One of them is that, unless some twist of highly suspicious magic and a severely convoluted series of events are involved, a thirteen year old girl in his year seven class can not kidnap her best friend from the opposite side of a school hall.

Hopefully, there was enough evidence to suggest that no one else knew of his private 'lair.' There were only a few ways of accessing it, and all but one involved getting there through other locations. And you couldn't get to those first locations unless you knew about their whereabouts. And no one did. Of that Mr Gerik was confident.

There was only _one_ direct way of getting to his lair and that was with the throne, which was kept under lock and key. There was also a rather nasty catoptric cistula waiting for you once you got down. It kept out unwanted visitors, not that he needed it. The throne only worked under special 'conditions,' as he called them. Most of the time it did a neat disappearing trick used to educate students. It hadn't taken anyone into his torture chamber for at least ten years-

Until Dana dropped in one day.

But it was locked inside the gymnasium store room. Madame Giry had a key and so did her daughter, and he as well (a principal like Monsieur Firmin is bound to lose a set of keys like that, and so it is not worth the bother of giving him one). Therefore, no one could get into the lair tonight.

Mr Gerik was rapidly tiring of logical thinking. Logic often led you in circles. He'd best get on with it.

That left only two remaining places. He was standing in one of them and not another soul was to be heard, seen, or sensed there. The final spot was the swimming pool. It sounded absurd to him, and a qualified Phantom like Mr Gerik knows of many absurd things and accepts them.

Still, it wasn't as if he had anywhere else more plausible to search...

He walked onwards with his boots tapping against the flagstones, slick with water, which made up the path. It was a short walk and one he took relaxation in. Situations like this can rapidly become very stressful.

There was something else he was supposed to remember. He had skipped across the topic a few moments ago. Something to do with a torture chamber, and yet it pertained to the swimming pool as well.

Oh dear, oh dear. It was not going to be a good night.

Placing snares and traps around the school hadn't seemed like such a bad idea a few years ago. The traps were never active during school hours; the cleaners and gardeners were the only _possible _victims and they all left by four o'clock in the afternoon. Only thieves would have the gall to enter a school at night, and the booby traps took care of them if they went nosing around-

Oh d- Damn it.

With a surge of speed Mr Gerik quickened his footsteps. A familiar blue light danced and skipped across the black walls of stone, reflected from the lake's glassy surface. The lake had a peculiar radiance all of its own. A sleek gondola of the finest workmanship that the school could afford bobbed gently on its surface, the punting pole lying underneath the seat. The familiar tableau beckoned to him.

_One last ride, old man, _a small voice in his head commented. _Then you're retiring._

He grasped the black pole in his hands. This was something he knew, something he could do. The water rippled as he dipped it into the lake. A ghost on the coal black boat of Charon, sailing through the lightless Underworld.

Everything connected eventually.

After a few firm strokes, another voice responded,

_Shut up. I'm not that old.  
_

* * *

A voice floated across the water to us. It was a joy to hear it; the speaker seemed unhurt. But the words were far from welcoming. "_Curse it!_ Why didn't I check that door?"

Edwin jumped up and down, his arms waving madly. "Estelle! Over here!"

_Gather your wits and do it fast, Dana. _I spun around to wrench the door to Mr Gerik's passage open again. My eyes widened in panic as I turned to Edwin and hissed, "It's locked!"

_What about the stairway that starts next to Room 18? _I thought hurriedly.

My eyes darted around, trying to locate the position of the stairway from the memory of my single visit. The only source of light in the entire chamber was the eerie glow that came from deep within the swimming pool. I suspected they were the pool lights set into the walls and base, but why they were on at this time of night, I had no idea. Nonetheless it was something to see by, but on the other hand the brilliant cobalt colour was incredibly spine-chilling.

I nudged Edwin and whispered hastily to him. He got the idea quickly, cupped his hands around his mouth and called across the pool, "What about the door up to the hallway?"

I thought I saw a grey bell shape on the other side of the swimming pool shuffle forward. Blinking a few times, I soon made out a ponytail connected to a head, two arms, and an abdomen on top of the bell. "It's locked as well." she called, pointing behind her to the dark stairway.

I glanced worriedly at Edwin. This was only marginally better than the torture chamber we had just escaped. We could only pray that the walls didn't start sizzling. "Break one of the doors down?" I suggested with a shrug.

"Not much to throw at it, aside from children's foam kickboards." he replied.

This exchange took only twenty seconds, but in all those seconds I couldn't guess why Estelle hadn't come across to us._ I_ certainly would have if I had just been kidnapped from a Bal Masque, held prisoner underneath the school, and two of my friends had arrived to rescue-

A second silhouette chose that moment to step forward, the lines of light from the water illuminating parts of his face and leaving deep shadows on the rest.

What I meant to say earlier is that I would surely join my friends and look for an escape, unless the person who had kidnapped me was still standing behind me.

There was no sudden urge to put my hands up above my head, palms open. The shadows on his face were the only sinister things I could see or feel. I squinted to see the figure clearer; why, he was not much taller than Estelle!

Edwin seemed to be thinking along the same path. "If I didn't know better," he whispered to me, "I'd_ swear_ that-"

Estelle's voice turned cold. "There. Now we're all together. But the night grows old, and my parents would just _kill _me if I came home late..."

The second shape laughed humourlessly, arms folded. "Not just yet, I think. If you don't mind, of course. I'd enjoy your company for a few minutes longer." He took a step forward; more of his face was lit up.

Memories stirred. The blue glow upon cheeks looked so familiar... Where else had I seen that before? I'd never met this person, this _boy,_ before in this setting. But seeing his face bathed in azure luminosity was an unmistakeable flash of déjà-vu...

The boy continued to talk in his soft, elegant voice. It was quite remarkable, but I could find no specific words to describe it. "I'm afraid there's been a bit of a mix-up. I'd like to correct that. Both of you walk over here slowly, and I can send Estelle on her way. In return I ask for a few moments to speak with Dana. Alone. Not so difficult to give in exchange for your friend Estelle, is it?"

"Eloquent little bugger." Edwin muttered beside me. "He doesn't look like much, but he's got a brain and a distracting voice to go with it."

"Almost a Mr Gerik Junior, I'd say." I whispered back. "He _did _manage to kidnap Estelle, didn't he? That means he knows what he's doing."

But Edwin had aced his Phantomy as well. He could smooth-talk, too. "And with whom do we have the pleasure of doing business with?" he called across the water.

The reply was almost instant. "My name is Erik."

_Erik. _I knew that name. Erik, my partner for the abduction examination. Erik, the kid who had tipped over our gondola in the SSL room. _Erik..._ Erik who couldn't swim.

At least, I hoped he still couldn't.

I leaned over to Edwin and said in a hushed voice, "I'm the Ingénue, you be the Phantom. Look as if you're taking me over for the hostage exchange!"

Edwin's eyes widened in shock. "Dana, you're crazy. There is no _way _I'm agreeing with him! The guy watches too many movies, that's all. We just have to outmanoeuvre him somehow..."

"And what is it that you think I'm doing?" I found the courage to wink. "Trust me, eh? This boy's a pushover."

_Pushover, _I mused. _Ha! Pushover! God, you're funny when it's not the right time, Dana._

I began to walk carefully across the slippery tiles, Edwin falling into step behind me. "You have no idea how a hostage exchange goes, do you?" he asked quietly.

"Nope." I replied confidently.

Keeping the swimming pool on our left, we did our best to walk with our heads high. Acting as if we were simply crossing the street to meet friends.

"You like swimming, do you, Erik?" I asked conversationally, trying to keep my voice level in case I gave myself away. "I wouldn't have chosen this place myself, but it's rather picturesque, isn't it?"

"I hoped you would like it." he replied with a faint smile spreading across his thin face. I shivered slightly at the sight. Every smile is frightening when all you can see around you is blue and pitch black.

We had walked along the longest side of the pool, and were now rounding the corner. Estelle and Erik stood facing us silently. _How are you going to do this, Dana? _I thought carefully. Up along this side, halfway across the next and Edwin and I would meet them. I made an effort to slow my feet down. I needed more time to think. It wouldn't work if I rushed into the plan, like I had with the disastrous throne idea.

We skirted the next corner of the swimming pool.

_Okay, Dana, this is it. Ten more metres and you're up in his face. As soon as Estelle's out of the way, you grab his head and chuck him into the water as hard as you can._

God, it was a stupid plot.

_Throw in a foam kickboard after him if you have to. You don't want him to drown. You just want him out of action long enough for you to-_

I don't really regret not being able to carry it through.

_-to... Oh no, dear _God,_ no..._

My brain flipped around wildly inside my skull, _knowing_ that in mere moments the soles of my green slippers would fail me. It was a strange feeling. Your mind knows your doom before it occurs.

My right foot slid out from underneath me with a flash of pale green and black. There was a squeak of rubber against water. I landed painfully on my backside, almost hissing with agony and shock. I felt myself roll over. I heard my friends calling my name; Estelle from only metres away, Edwin much nearer.

A wall of blue liquid rushed up, engulfing my face in a single second. I closed my mouth and screwed my eyes shut against the chlorine. I felt a hundred tiny bubbles racing each other to the surface, brushing momentarily past my cheeks. The small currents caused by the displacement tugged and pushed at my clothes. The water around my head soon turned a shade of emerald green, and I abruptly remembered that my hair had been dyed green with Mum's coloured hairspray. My locks had come out of their bun, swirling in the water in from of my eyes.

There was another splash beside me. Perhaps Estelle had guessed my plan and shoved Erik into the pool?

I kicked and surged up towards the surface, throwing my head out of the water with a deep gasp. I looked around from side to side, wiping the stinging liquid away from my eyes.

Estelle was standing on the edge of the pool, not far away. Erik was next to her, an expression of unadulterated surprise on his face.

I kicked and turned around in the water. Edwin's head of dark, dripping hair bobbed up from the depths. He blinked the water out of his eyes for a while, not quite sure what had happened.

Something crimson red fell down on top of us.

It was a small red thing. It moved too quickly for my eyes to focus on it. Come to think of it, there were_ two _red things...

One of them closed around my neck, tightening quickly. I gasped again, my hand flying up to finger my throat.

It was a length of rope. Red rope.

Digging my fingers into my flesh, I tried frantically to worm my hand under the rope to pull it away. The panic did not delay. It rushed through every corner of my body and exploded out through my mouth. I let out a shrill scream as I pulled desperately at the cord, took a breath, screamed again. Someone had to hear, had to help... It was a nightmare, the most horrendous trauma ever conceived. I opened my mouth and screamed a third time, words coming out with it.

"What kind of twisted sicko would booby trap a swimming pool?!"

I doubt that any other person I know has ever had a Punjab lasso thrown onto them while floating in a swimming pool. All that you can see are the small waves splashing relentlessly into your face. You can not even catch a glimpse of the thin line of scarlet that you know is closed around your neck.

I thrashed my body from side to side, but the pain from the rope chafing against my skin only intensified. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edwin clawing at the noose around his own neck. His face appeared strained, and fear caused his fingers to fumble and slip away from the cord.

Estelle drew back, a look of dismay etched across her pallid face. Fury growing inside her, she whirled around in a half-circle and grabbed Erik's bony shoulder, pulling in close and staring him in the eye.

"Listen kid," she cried out angrily, "the fun's over!I wasn't really against your stupid plan before, but this is too far! Release them both, and do it _now!_"

Erik's voice wavered. The self-assured captor was stripped away, and only a terrified youth in a red and gold Masquerade outfit remained. "This isn't my fault! I'm not the one who did this! I don't know anything_ about_ this!" His eyes darted past Estelle and to Edwin and me floundering in the swimming pool. They shone white in the dark, filled with horror and incredulity.

No one expected it. No one knew why it was happening. And we were going to _die_ for it.

I looked up, the knot from the lasso prodding uncomfortably against the nape of my neck. My eyes struggled to focus on it, and with an increasing sensation of disbelief I saw that the rope ended. The taut cord continued up for about two metres, then vanished into the darkness. It just stopped. There was no continuation, no more _going on._

But the nooses were narrowing, and the ropes were lifting us upward. We were people to be hanged.

Edwin closed his eyes, his forehead creased. The loop pulled at his head as the rope rose into the shadows, and for a sickening moment I thought he would soon be dead. But Edwin opened his eyes again, his face setting itself hard with resolve.

He reached up an arm, closed his hand around the rope, did the same with the other hand, and began to climb.

On the edge of the pool, Estelle's voice scaled in volume, pitch, and rage. "I thought you were an okay guy, but this is _it!_ You're absolutely crazy. You're sick! What is it that you _want?!_" Estelle ran her hands through her hair, almost collapsing into a fit of sobs. She grabbed at the boy's shoulders again.

There was a muffled, confused yell that soon silenced as Erik's mouth was blocked by Estelle's lips. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure of what to really do in this scenario. Estelle's knuckles whitened considerably. I would have laughed, but I would have choked as well and aside from that, it truly was not the right time to.

Estelle straightened her arms and pulled herself away. "_Now_ can you release them? Gods above, _get them down!_" She constricted her fingers on Erik's frail body and shook hard, her face red with disgust and from shouting.

"Don't you get it?" she shrieked. "They'll _die!_"

Erik broke out of her grasp. "I _know._ I know that they'll be killed if they're not let down, and I'm _sorry!_ It's my fault for bringing any of you here. But I can't do anything about it! You think there are controls for these lassos?!"

In the water, I felt like screaming again, but the pain around my neck would not let me. Water lapped at my face. The rope was yanking us upward steadily. Edwin's black form was climbing up the rope as it rose, evading death for a few seconds each time as he hauled his body higher. The water level had gone from his chin down to his waist. I wasn't sure how long he could go on climbing. Surely the rope would end somewhere, or was it magic? I should have been copying his miraculous feat, but my arms felt far too leaden and heavy.

But then, the thought of death is usually a very motivating one.

Streams of water trickled down my arm as I grabbed onto the length of rope. My gauzy butterfly wing hung down, sodden. I pulled, the muscles in my arm straining.

My chin rose out of the water.

I never could do chin-ups very well, and I was only average at climbing trees and up ropes. But the other arm swung through the water and up, gripped the rope. The entire room was eerily quiet. Estelle had stopped shouting, but stood still at the side of the pool, the hem of her purple dress damp and her face moist with tears of helplessness. Erik held his head in his hands, unable to watch any further.

I let out a strangled sob at the sight. _Are we really going to die this way?_ It wasn't something you often considered. It was something I had confronted privately while Edwin and I were in Mr Gerik's cistula, but we had _escaped_ that. There was very little we could do in this situation.

I felt a twinge around the base of my head. I reached up again and dragged myself up another inch or two. _Again. Do it again._ The other arm went up, gripped, pulled. _Again, Dana._ Another time. _One more go._ Another inch up. _Keep going, faster!_ A burst of strength allowed my arms to grip harder, pull stronger, climb faster. I was soon level with Edwin, who was resting and holding onto his cord with firm hands, the rope he had scaled hanging down in a loose loop beside him. If he let go he would have fallen and broken his neck, and I shuddered violently at the thought.

He gave a tiny smile when he saw me draw level with him, puffing. The water was at our toes by then. I sneaked a glance back down at the undulating surface of the swimming pool. Dazzling light shone up at us. Our heads were both one and a half metres out of the water. Hangmen's nooses were still around them.

Edwin reached his free hand towards me. I held out my own. Dangling together above the school swimming pool at midnight, we smiled and gently clutched each other's hand. I yearned to say a goodbye to my friends, but my body was breathless. And so all four of us were silent.

Just an inch away from the tip of my dripping toes, a black leather glove bobbed on the surface of the water with the ripples.

Eyelids heavy with the sting of chlorinated water, that was the last thing I saw before my vision faded.

But then, of course, came the piercing screech of the griffin.

**I would confirm/deny your suspicions right here, but for the sake of the minority group who read the author's notes before they actually read the chapter (o.O?) I can only ask you to leave a review and in answer I will put youse all outta your miseries.**

**Quickly now, you want to know what happened to them all, don't you? But I'd also like some critique: Remember that I have **_**not**_** been Punjabbed before, or even simply hung, and therefore I have no idea what it feels like or what the average time it takes for one to die from it is. I got extremely creative and did the whole 'climb up the bleeding rope' thing, and I fear that it is a fanciful method. And to add to that, I had some great difficulties with articulating it... I hope you can all imagine it without any problems.**

**I am the Banana King!! Hee hee hee!  
DarkFlame**


	29. Voices in the Dark

**A/N: Something I really must do... A NICE BIG SHOUTOUT TO ALL THE READERS AND REVIEWERS! My Bob, you all are such wonderful readers to have. It's been a while since my last shout out, and since this is the second last chapter (oh, please quiet down; I can hear you booing from here! And I'm in Australia, dangit.), I'd better do it again before it's too late.**

**As the daughter of a software engineer and the sister of an autistic boy, I like order and patterns. But as a writer I like unpredictability and creativity also. You know how the chapter titles alternate? Every second chapter title involving the word 'she' to indicate that it was written by my friend Jamster (or at least, supposed to have been written until she stepped out of the story-writing); every other chapter title randomly creative to signify that it was mine? Well, the strict pattern-liking side of me has taken a blow. Twisting the last two chapter titles around, because it would make more sense. It burns me...**

**Oh, I exaggerate things. ;P Forget it! Just enjoy the chapter! It was written in a very different way. Some parts are really terrible; I just couldn't get the right **_**message**_** across with it. Some of my own original characters are out of character! It's just...random. Any help and advice would be appreciated, as always.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.**

Voices in the Dark

I'm a fool!

I never thought that it would come to _this_. It was just a night like any other. We were only kids running around, no idea what we were doing.

You're not paying attention, are you? _I can tell._ You're asking why I did it.

When you're young, you not really sure what matters. It will sound pathetic to you. She never got in touch, and I didn't have it in me to ask her to the Bal Masque again. There, it's out and it's _stupid._

I _know!_

I was afraid of watching them. I can stomach some gore, but I can not and hope I never will be a spectator of a death. I feared that lest I saw any of it, I would never be able to forget the scene, ever. That is probably what would have happened. It would have haunted me to the end of my days. I simply can't watch two people my own age die in front of me!

Especially when it was Dana... I couldn't meet her eyes, and if by some miracle she survived I'd never let myself look at her again. If only they would all forgive me. My mother is proud of my intelligence, but she has not yet seen the side of me that is a blatant imbecile. How she would react if she knew I was a murderer at the age of thirteen, I hate to discover.

I was mulling over my idiocy right before the thing came. I can only guess what on or –to be precise- _under _the earth it truly was. There was a foul wailing noise, and before I knew it a gigantic bird-like creature had pounced on me, screeching into my face. It was not far removed from being tackled by the family cat, although this thing was heavier than Ayesha tenfold. I could smell blood on its breath.

All I can recall is falling over backwards, my head hurting, and the darkness I knew well.

* * *

I've never been one for religion, though I am knowledgeable in most. I like to think of myself as a seeker of truth. Philosophy and religion are distractions. Sometimes philosophy and science cross over and mingle, but religion is a trifle to me. But that night, with my friends minutes away from..._expiring_ in the cellars of the very school I attended each weekday, I prayed.

For the first time in years I _prayed_ to all the deities I could name. A part of me remained hopeless that the pleas would be acknowledged, but I went on with it. I appealed to the spirits of historical figures, whose lives our civilisation was built upon, to just save my friends. Maybe if I believed with every part of my being, the nightmare would disappear...

Perhaps, by some slim chance, someone was listening to me that night.

A ball of flame seemed to illuminate the room, the surface of the pool flashing briefly of orange. A small griffin (I approach mythical creatures in a similar way to religion: with interest but disbelief) swooped through the air, its beak wide open in an unearthly howl. I saw a glint of polished metal along the edge of its wings.

Within moments, two large splashes disrupted the smooth film of watery light before me.

The events of the night caught up with me then. I had been bodily abducted, held prisoner in a _swimming_ _pool, _seen my schoolmates almost get killed; I was exhausted, hormonally-imbalanced and sleep-deprived. Shaking with relief, I allowed my knees to collapse beneath me and sighed, "Thank you." I thanked my two greatest friends for attempting to 'rescue' me; I thanked the last-minute help...

My final thought was for Leroux, the all-powerful Creator, but which type of thanks I directed to him I can not remember.

* * *

It's amazing how teaching is included in my repertoire of talents. Of course, I bring a certain special something to it. A bit of unique flair.

Nadir warned me against the traps years ago. He said they shouldn't be turned on while we had the Bal Masque, but my reply was, "What if a criminal enters the school during the Bal Masque? Security is minimal; if you arrive with a costume you can come on in. Infiltration would be simpler on a night like that, and we can not put anyone at risk."

I'd better not tell Nadir about this, then.

Genius is so often under-appreciated. The griffin –designed and made _by_ _myself_- is rarely put to use, but tonight was as good a time as ever to exercise its wings. Remote-controlling the robot in the right direction to cut through the ropes required dexterity, but was not complex. Knowing who to tend to first was a little harder.

One can only hope that all teachers would feel the same level of protectiveness to their students as I do towards mine. There was a certain twinge, a shifting, a _twang_ of strings inside as I fished them out of the water. Of course I feared momentarily for their lives; no matter how well I dodged the legalities the hysterical mothers would hunt me down regardless. They can do that. There's something in them that sees through all the possible disguises one can don...

They were good children, too. Young, inexperienced and scarcely living yet. They did their homework and worked well in class. I regret to see potential trickle away with something so troublesome as death.

Dana was a sweet girl. We had hardly had a pleasant first impression, and I used to think her impertinent...arrogant... naive ... They were all words that leapt to mind. Yet her colourful personality had been infectious. To a point.

But as I pulled the dripping strands of hair out of her face and checked that both boy and girl were breathing evenly, I realised that I was rather fond of them all this year. To an extent.

Now, how in blazes was I going to get them out of there?

* * *

Every mother loves all her children equally. I only have one. The phone call was about him.

"It's one in the morning, what can this possibly be about?" I hadn't realised that my only son was not home yet. Other than him, there could be no other reason for someone to be calling at that time. And I forgot all about him.

"_I apologise." _The voice on the other end of the line sounded tired. _"We need you to come over to the school. Right now, if possible. We urge you to come as fast as you can."_

I stopped whining inwardly at my disturbed sleep. A cursory glance at the clock on the wall, its numbers glowing green in the hallway's black dimness, and I was wide awake.

"Is it an emergency? What does it have to do with me- Oh, shit-!"I stopped myself abruptly. "Does it involve my son?" My hand clenched instinctively around the phone so tightly that I thought my bones would crack. I loosened my grip gradually, trembling as I listened.

"_We do not wish to alarm you." _the person said calmly. _"Your son is safe-"_

I let out the breath I had been holding and slid down the wall and into a chair. "What happened to him?" I asked once my heart had stopped beating so erratically.

"_Erik was involved in a..." _There was a suspicious pause in the office lady's speech, and one I did not fail to take note of._ "...an accident. But he is fine. Although I think a comforting parent would be welcomed at this time."_

"I will not delay!" I turned to face wall again, ready to hang up. My legs were already sidling towards the door.

"_Corner of King Road and Creek Road. Goodnight, Mrs-"_

The sound of the phone being hung up shattered the silence of the house.

Once I was in the car, with the air conditioning switched off and a few lone cars whooshing past in the oncoming lane, I broke down quietly into tears.

* * *

Rope burn. It sucks.

My parents tell me that I'm the type of person who does not tolerate...some things. I can't remember which. My neck aches as if I've been sleeping in a chair for two years; I think I tore a thin layer of skin from my neck trying to pull the noose off. My arms feel like they belong to a doll and that some mental kid has ripped them out of their sockets... And_ someone_ keeps bumping my head against something!

I'm going to regret coming to the Masquerade this year. A lot.

But then, who else my age has been in and out of a catoptric cistula, as well as in and out of a Punjab lasso? And this is what I get after? The great-grandmother of all hangovers?

There was something else, something that came in between the torture chamber and the noose... Something _green._ It was a pale grass green. Hmm. Why can't I remember these things? I get the feeling that it was important, looming up in the forefront of my mind like a big iceberg-thing...

_Would you stop knocking my head around, please?_

I had to start focusing on the pain in my head, didn't I? If a dog had suddenly thrown up its last four meals into my skull and eaten it again, this is what it would feel like. Or maybe it's not a dog. It could be a crocodile that's eating out of my skull. That's a more accurate description. Yes.

Oh, yes. I remember now. My parents say that I can never tolerate dullness and that I can never stay still. I'm "constantly plunging myself into trouble and the _gods_ know what else."

Funny how things come back to you once you've swallowed some analgesics.

* * *

It's been ages since I've thought about the Night Music. The merest flicker of half a notion can conjure it up, and it comes crashing across the landscape of your mind until it overwhelms you. You can scream, run away, block your ears, but the music will keep humming and dancing around the inside of your head.

There was a flash of pink across a background of purest black, like the swipe of a paintbrush. The pink stripe swirled and formed itself into an extravagant dress, and the person my brain invented to fill it gave a curtsey. Then the figure skipped away into the darkness until it shrank out of view, prancing to the beat of the Music.

My mind was recreating the tune of the Masquerade Dance from residual scraps of music leftover from the Bal Masque. With colours. How interesting.

It was a famous song. But from my previous experience with it, I expected the revered and hallowed Music of the Night to be more _spontaneous_.

Ah, memories. Of detention, of the music box that always sat on the corner of the teacher's desk and never moved -I could see it now. Ever so vivid are the folds of textured red fabric, the gold thread, and its unceasing smile of welcome. Wow, my memory is _good_. If only I can remember my music theory; the teacher says I am very bad at theory...

The monkey claps once, and this time the sound comes from outside my head. It rings and clashes with the Music I am imagining, until the Music of the Night is drowned out and fades completely.

* * *

The school sickbay smelled strongly of artificial lime. It was a nauseating scent; perhaps someone had bought industrial strength disinfectant, and one day the teachers had had a fight and sprayed it into every corner of the room. My nostrils twitched uneasily and I shifted in my seat.

The lady who was standing against the wall mistook this for anxiety. "She should be awake soon, mister." she said with a kindly smile. "I expect it's just fatigue. You could hardly expect anything else-"

There were three other occupied beds in the sickbay. I was the only adult in the room, save for the nurse standing by the opposite wall and stifling a yawn.

"It was the Bal Masque tonight, wasn't it?" I asked for conversation.

The young woman nodded. "Oh yes. The kids had lots of fun." She stopped after that, her forehead creased in careful thinking. With a shrug she added, "It's a shame they all had to be evacuated once the girl disappeared..."

"I used to go to Bal Masques..." I said quietly.

"Oh, the New Year Bal Masque is not far away. Why not get your wife and have a night out?"

"Hmm." I grunted. The subject she had suggested was an unstable one. "So tell me, what happened to the girl who disappeared?"

"Oh, I don't know much. All I know was that there was an explosion, and when everyone turned back to the stage the girl was gone! Kidnapped, the rumour says. The night goes on and then the deputy principal strolls in with these kids." The woman gestured to the beds.

My gaze fell onto the other sleeping girl in the room. She looked about Dana's age, with black hair and wearing a purple and white dress covered in silver stars. The dress looked slightly damp at the hem. She slept on her side with her mouth slightly open and her arms splayed out.

Dana was soaking wet. The cover on the mattress had a dark ring around where she lay. I rubbed her arm softly, a miniscule attempt to warm her up.

I frowned and looked down at her. There was a smile on her face, as if she was dreaming about some pleasant formerly-forgotten memory. But she couldn't have been dreaming, for her eyes were wide open. Her hand moved toward the music box that sat on the little chair next to me and then pulled back, as if burned by touching the monkey's head. The smile faded from her lips, her eyes widened further, and she looked up at me.

"Mum?" she murmured. She put her hand on top of mine and frowned. Her confused expression was priceless; my hand was too big to be her mother's.

"Hi, Dana." The relieved grin on my face was weak.

Dana sat up quickly, wincing suddenly and rubbing the back of her neck. This action was painful too, so she just sat on the bed and stared at me.

"Where's Mum?" she asked after a while.

I gulped unconsciously. "She tried to make it, but there was an accident on the main road."

"What?!"

I put up my hands and shook my head. "No, your mother wasn't involved! Just stuck in traffic, that's all."

She breathed out and her tense stance deflated. "So she sent you?"

"Yes. Not the hero you were expecting?"

Dana shrugged. "Wasn't expecting anything at all." She squinted at the monkey on the stool. "I didn't realise I was awake. So what's up with you, Dad?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall by her bed. "Mum wouldn't send you on an errand unless she _really_ couldn't make it."

"Not much." I said, brushing away the mention of her mother. "What are you doing at school?"

She shrugged again. "Taking Textiles as an elective next year." she said off-handedly.

My interest was aroused. "So my daughter's taking Textiles, is she?" _Oh gods, that sounded so stupid. You sound as if you own her!_

Dana nodded. "I like Textiles."

"You made that dress you're wearing? It's nice."

"Mum did." She squeezed the sodden material in her hands. "I designed some parts."

"Excellent colour choice." I noted. "Clever design, too." I was doing my best to be polite while inquiring about her life and to praise her. Inwardly, I grimaced. I could read it in her face: _My father is a foppish, superficial moron and I don't even know why he's here after all this time._

"Thanks. I like designing, though most of them never leave the paper. I probably can't afford to make all the things I think up." She was talking more; was that a good sign?

At a loss for what to say next, I only said, "I'd have spoiled you rotten, you know."

"I don't need spoiling." was her only reply. "Mum's getting married on the New Year, just so you know."

"She's told me." The air in the sick bay felt suddenly chilly. "Are you going to make lots of designs for her dress?"

"Maybe. It'll probably be very gaudy and expensive to make, so why should I bother with it?"

"Maybe showy and expensive is what Mum likes." I said simply. It was the first time I had called Dana's mother 'Mum' for almost ten years.

"Hmm." The girl looked carefully at me for a moment, as if she had suddenly noticed what I looked like. I don't think she remembers how I looked like before the divorce. She raised her head after some time and met my eyes.

"You know..." Dana said slowly, "I have an idea for this jacket. A man's jacket. Would you mind supplying your measurements? I think Mum has some material leftover from years ago..." She squinted at me, studying carefully. "Yes,' she mumbled, "maybe that would work."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked her cheerfully.

Her face brightened, the ideas bringing a happy light to her face. "Oh, something simple and practical. But stylish, it's going to be stylish...!" She gave another of her shrugs. "And who knows, I might give it to you once I'm done."

I smiled flippantly. "You know, that's the exact kind I like."

Dana sniffed the air. "Is it just me, or does it smell like limes in here?"

"It's not just you."

**Meh. Did what I could. I tried to make Erik sort of like Leroux Raoul, all wounded pride and remorseful of his stupidity. Mr Gerik I tried to make arrogant, just to bring in a bit of humour. I had no idea what to do with Edwin, so I drew inspiration from Bilious, the Oh God of Hangovers from Terry Pratchett's **_**Hogfather.**_** It was mostly a random chapter, just supplying some more points of view and a few more voices in the story. And to explain a short string of events.**

**Second last end author's note! Review, hope you liked, I've got to go and decorate the Christmas tree now, please leave some critique if you want, I plan to update and finish by Sunday...!**

**EVERYBODY LIKES KUNG FU FIGHTING!  
DarkFlame**


	30. She Who Wakes Up

**A/N: Well, it is my final chapter for this story. I'm not really happy with it, it's so boring compared to the handful that came before Chapter 29. But I hope you can read, slump in your chair knowing that it's all over, and maybe critique. All of my readers have been very helpful to me so far, and for that I am incredibly grateful. I think I've lost a few readers on the way but I've alse gained many to make up for it, and I wouldn't change this for anything. Thank you ALL very much for everything you have done!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.**

She Who Wakes Up

The corridors were filled with staff rushing from one spot in the office to another, never having more than a few moments of business to attend to in one place. Children's artworks were being stripped from the walls, the thumbtacks feverishly collected as they fell. Snatches of conversation flew past her ears as she weaved her way through the throng of teachers.

"We don't need these files anymore, do we?"

"The old behaviour books go out, Maria."

In reply the student teacher moaned, "But doesn't anyone keep them for playful blackmail when the students graduate?"

"The dep stopped doing that, oh, _ages_ ago. He doesn't really connect with the children that much anymore."

"I heard that this year-"

The words grew faint behind her.

The door at the end of the hallway was open and she made her way resolutely towards it. Stopping just before she reached the painted door, the woman took a moment to smooth down her skirt and remove her sunglasses. She refreshed her memory of how a clipped voice sounded, and clutched her handbag tighter.

She nudged the door with her foot and stepped inside as it swung into the wall with a muted thump. The office only had one occupant.

"The lady behind the counter said I could come in." she burbled.

The man at the pipe organ sighed gently, taking his hands from the keys. "They always get over-excited on the last day." he said, rolling his eyes behind his mask. "Well, Madame de Chagny, how may I be of service?"

The woman raised a finger, about to launch into a firm, slightly angry speech involving polite demands. (She wasn't sure exactly _how_ to make demands sound polite, but she decided that she would make it up as she went along if the situation required.) All this grinded to a halt when a tiny corner of her brain registered that he had actually offered –in a vague, aloof manner that suggested he was only saying it out of obligation- to _help_ her.

"He's actually being kind of nice." mumbled Christine aloud, her index finger gradually lowering.

_Oops, _she thought worriedly. _I'm not supposed to say that out loud._

"Yes, I am, aren't I?" the 'he' in question said mockingly. "It's the last day I'm at work for the year, so why not? I say again, how may I be of _service?_" The final word hissed out between his teeth, an expression of undoubted amusement adorning the visible part of his face.

"Monsieur Gerik," Christine began; she was not entirely abandoning her tirade, "I must speak with you about the standard of my son's school report." Her shoes clicked against the floor (how they managed to _click _and _clack _on the blue carpet no one is sure of) as she strode determinedly to the teacher.

Mr Gerik recovered quickly. "And which one is he? You're going to have to see his class teacher for that. I teach one year seven class and there are no boys under the name 'de Chagny,' I assure you-"

"He was tremendously embarrassed by the surname," she interjected, "and his father changed it for him. Spoils the child far too much, he does, and gives in too easily; changing all the government records caused a great deal of fuss. And we thought it would be somewhat...safer. For him. You understand..."

From this new string of gabbled information, Mr Gerik took a while longer to regain his composure. He blinked at least seven times before he said, "And...what is his given name...?"

Christine de Chagny threw the report folder down onto the organ's keys. There a gentle vibration from within the instrument and a high-pitched chord squeaked out of it. The teacher the read the name in the top right corner of the folder, scrawled hastily in a spidery font. _'Erik'._

An incredulous, "Hmm." was all Mr Gerik said.

The woman leaned down and leafed through the pages of the student report. "What I am concerned about is this." She had found the page and stabbed down at it with a sharp fingernail.

Mr Gerik peered at it. "This is the page of his test scores."

"Quite right, and look here. At the beginning of the year he did reasonably well in his class tests. Rather high percentages. But in the end of year exam he was dismal. Below average marks in every section! How do you explain that, monsieur?"

Barely pursing his lips, Mr Gerik replied, "A studying problem."

"You're on the mark with that." Madame de Chagny admitted. "I heard him playing on his keyboard all week. Composing." She saw the teacher's eyes fill with quiet approval when she said this. "A love song, I think it was." she added quickly. She watched carefully as the light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of nervousness.

"What I'm getting at is this: Do you know of any reason why he would be neglecting his studies? You're the teacher; you must observe some things! I had to pick him up at one-thirty on the night of the Bal Masque! I see a definite lack of discipline."

The Phantom felt a miniscule tremble of indecision run through his arms. "For once, I believe this is something you should discuss with your son yourself." he said at last. "It's a fairly important matter, and one I'm not at liberty to reveal any details about. Who knows? I could humiliate him."

_How considerate of you, _she mocked silently. Christine put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. "You won't tell me why my son was in the sick bay at one in the morning?" she demanded.

"He'll tell you." Mr Gerik said confidently, flicking through the student report folder to the last page. "There are some positive things about your son's work, however." He handed the folder to the irritated mother.

"Diligent." she read. "Extremely determined in the tasks he undertakes. Displays a sharp cleverness that he should learn to put to more good use. Knows when he has made a mistake." Christine lowered the folder. "Well, that still doesn't explain his shockingly low exam marks. He told me it was incredibly easy, and yet when the marks came back..." She shook her head. "Something else I'm here for... Just give me a moment to remember-"

"Perhaps he should get some tutoring over the summer holidays." Mr Gerik said thoughtfully.

Christine de Chagny snapped her fingers. "You read my mind!"

_It's so easy to, _he thought to himself.

The prepared indignation ebbed steadily from her. "I see no reason why we can't come up with an amicable agreement. It is for my son, after all."

Mr Gerik nodded, a smile on his lips and his fingers drumming lightly against the organ keys. "Certainly."

* * *

The monkey smiled at me.

The Music of the Night provides beautiful lullabies. There's a new one every night, and it even knows which evenings I'm too tired to listen to music. So it doesn't make me a song on nights like that.

Don't ask me how it works. Maybe it's my own mind that's making the music, _composing._ But whenever I consciously try to make up a tune on the spot, it doesn't work. I don't hear anything during the day. I know hardly anything about composing anyway, so I prefer to think of the music as another entity. I can _always_ hear it at night. It's an ability I've gained. The Music doesn't do much, except create the lullabies before I fall asleep. They help a lot. I've fallen victim to a bit of insomnia lately.

A lullaby can keep the nightmares at bay.

I mean, I've always had dreams. Everyone does, don't they? I dreamt once of Persian rugs, of long black capes, and of a sweet music that permeates the air. I have a good giggle over that one every now and then.

But nightmares are different.

I'm not _scared _of what the nightmares contain. It's just that they bring back memories. Good and bad. One minute, I am dancing at the Bal Masque with Edwin, Mr Gerik, and that toy soldier. It's a lovely memory. The curse on nice memories is that when the bad ones come along, its effects are terrible because you can still feel the sweetness of the good memories. The change from joy to terror is stunning.

Some nights, I scream aloud because it feels like the quilt is wrapped around my neck.

But the Night Music dampens the nightmares. When I'm ripping at the lasso in my dreams, I hear music drift across the water and I'm suddenly –without explanation- safe. That's the way dreams work. They play havoc with your emotions. The Music is like an addictive chocolate truffle, or I daresay, a drug. It _helps_ me, it's that simple. Hearing a single note just before the rope pulls a final time has saved me on countless occasions. I'm hanging above the pool, trying to escape the noose, I'm about to give up...and then I hear music.

From the night of the Bal Masque, memories of the lasso and the torture chamber are very vivid. And, as you would expect, I can recall nothing from after the moment I lost consciousness. Estelle told me that our teacher had come in at the very last minute, cutting the ropes (she said it involved a big bird thing). Maybe Mr Gerik is my Music of the Night. I mentioned once to Edwin that he was right, it was an unlucky day and we probably jinxed ourselves on that Friday thirteenth.

And he answered, _"No, I was wrong. It wasn't unlucky at all. No matter how many horrible, life-threatening things happened to us, it will always be the luckiest day of my life."_ He wouldn't say any more, only give my hand a gentle squeeze.

What can I possibly say? I like sentimental guys.

Thank Almighty Leroux that my fixation with Mr Gerik's cape has loosened its grip. But it was a gorgeous dream, wasn't it?

I could see the monkey music box. I could hear the Music of the Night. In the darkness of my dreams, the Persian monkey stops clapping its cymbals...

And winks just once.

* * *

_9:20_

I get the feeling that all the clocks in the house are out to spite me. There is a thought that flashes across my not-yet-awake mind, but it is gone in a second. A notion, there was an overpowering notion of..._lateness..._

I'm late for something.

Rolling over a few times, I wait for my body to spring into action. After five minutes, it doesn't.

_You're going to have to use your _brain _for this job, Dana,_ an inner voice pointed out. I groaned in response, eventually mustering the effort to sit up.

My back ached, but I felt properly rested. That was probably because I slept in. I slapped a hand to my face, pinching and stretching the flesh. My body was still reluctant to move. After thirteen years of life, one year of which was _high school_, I thought I had mastered the art of getting out of bed in a hurry.

I hadn't yet realised how severely school holidays can dull your skills.

I swung my legs towards where I remembered the edge of the bed usually was, and my knees got a jarring as I fell onto the floor.

_Ow,_ the inner voice commented.

* * *

When I made it to the kitchen, I saw that Mum and Charles had already eaten breakfast. Dishes covered in bread crumbs competed for room in the sink; we would contest each other on who would wash them later.

My brain told me to rush, because there was still a nagging thought of tardiness curled up in a corner of my head. It hadn't woken up and made itself clear yet. I would remember what I was late for after breakfast. The smell of an omelette usually cleared my mind.

Those blasted school holidays work on _everything!_

I abruptly realised that it was a capful of cherry wine I had just poured over my omelette, and not balsamic vinegar. Eyes widening and resentment growing towards for the person who had given the bottle of wine as a wedding present (it still wasn't finished after a month, but the hangovers Charles and Mum had were beyond price), I headed instead to the toaster.

There couldn't possibly be a way for me to screw up _toast_.

* * *

The strap of the helmet tasted salty. I was gripping a bike helmet with my teeth, wheeling a bicycle out of the garage and up the driveway with my right hand and holding a plate with the other.

"Here's an omelette with cherry wine, if either of you are still hungry." I said as soon as I dropped the helmet, setting the plate onto the wooden deck. Mum and Charles were on the porch, sitting on the swing. Mum was on her side, curled up against Charles' lap. He was having a hard time holding the guitar above her head while he played, but he didn't look at all as if he minded. His shoulders would hurt after a while...

Mum smiled slyly at me. "You're up late, Dana."

"I know-"

"Sheesh, you take your time, missy!" a voice called out.

I turned my head towards the front gate. Edwin was leaning on the fence, two more people having a quiet argument with a pair of bicycles behind him.

"I swear, Erik, it's no problem!" said Estelle.

"But you have been pedalling all the way here; please just let me take a turn. You offered me the lift on your bike, and I'll gladly pedal the rest of the way-"

Estelle raised an eyebrow. "I've had enough of awkward travelling positions, thank you very much. If you don't mind sitting on the crossbar for a few more minutes, I'll do the pedalling." This kept him quiet for a moment. Estelle turned to me at the clanging of the gate.

"I'll walk and give Erik my bike, if he wants." I offered cheerfully.

"It's not a problem, Dana." assured Erik, looking down at the path. He was rather shy of me, since the whole fiasco...almost killing me...and all that jazz.

"Dana," Estelle huffed, "we would have stopped for ice cream if we knew you would take so long!" She leaned closer to me and whispered, "Please help me; he's being so..._romantic!_ I'm not sure how much more I can take." Her eyes pleaded with me.

I laughed, as if Estelle had just told me a joke. "Oh Estelle, you make the funniest analogies." I added, to keep up the show. Inwardly I was genuinely laughing. My friend was the polar opposite to Erik. I could see that she needed great deal of self-restraint to put up with his gestures. She was so...practical.

But they do say that opposites attract...

At any rate, I was glad that Erik's infatuation for me had disappeared. Misguided fascination, I believe it was. We would see how Estelle would take to being the centre of his attention. It was like how Mum and Charles were in love; Erik was now smitten in this odd, childish way.

Edwin mounted his bicycle. "Late or not, let's go!"

"There was a great sunrise this morning." Estelle commented as the bikes picked up speed down the street. A few other people were sitting on their lawns, enjoying the sunshine. The summer season was gathering momentum, but the clouds hadn't disappeared completely yet and provided a slight barrier against the sun.

"You were up at dawn?" I asked, amazed.

She sounded affronted. "Always. You can be very punctual if you wake up at sunrise, you know."

"It truly was beautiful this morning." said Erik quietly.

I groaned. "I can't be blamed if I'm not a morning person!"

Edwin laughed, saying to me as he overtook Estelle and me with his bike, "Don't worry, I woke up at eight."

"Glad to know. But the morning is just as good as the dawn, I bet. Let's make use of this day." The trees on the side of the road sped past, a blur of sun-dappled green. The wind was running its fingers through my hair; the sky was a staggering shade of blue... It was a good morning.

Erik moaned a little, and our eyes drifted to his pained face. "Next week, I get summer tutoring." he complained. "My mother organised for it. She says my exam scores were pitiful."

"Aww, poor Erik." I bit my lip. "Well, we'll spend the day well. Everyone agree?"

There was a cry in unison. "Yes!"

I pedalled a little harder, a whirl of happy feelings dragging my mouth into a grin. Edwin shouted, "Hey!" as I overtook him and rode proudly at the front of the group. A girl pedalling leisurely on a silver bicycle, with a boy riding head down behind, and a second girl on her midnight blue bike and a thin boy sitting on the crossbar at the back. We would've given the neighbours a laugh.

I closed my eyes, holding tight to the handlebars and savouring the sensation of moving air against my face. I opened them again, and the colours were sharp in my vision.

Dreams are nice. They are so wonderful that you never want to leave the realm of fantasy.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled over my shoulder, sparing a glance behind. "You're all so slow!" A peal of laughter and shrieks rang out behind me.

But it's even better when you wake up.

_finito_

**That's the end! No more. I'm rather sad at that, but satisfied. It took me almost a year to write it, starting out from a friend's dream and leading to a joint fanfiction which I somehow ended up doing on my own. I've finished it!**

**Just a note if you care to read it: The stereotypes usually present in this fandom have been undermined somewhat. Which is Raoul? Which is Christine? Which is the Phantom? (insert Muahahahahaaa)**

**What I'll do next, I do not know. I quail at the thought of a sequel (sorry!); it took me a year on this thing and I simply can't think of another idea. In comparison to multi-chapter stories, I excel at one-shots. Maybe you can drop by every now and then and take a look. All I need is an idea. I've been thinking about a story about Madame Giry's experience in housing a young Erik, and I've also been considering a humourous story, inspired by a Terry Pratchett novel. It's always good to have a change of genre every now and then. Or I could just move on to another fandom. Or I could celebrate the fanniversary of this joint account. Who knows?**

**Until then, my dear readers,  
DarkFlameOfTheMonkey,  
the remainder of APennyForYourThought**

**And a final Please Review!**

**And a Merry Boxing Day to you all with my fondest wishes.**


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